


mad season

by shockvaluecola



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Alpha Eliot Waugh, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - No Beast (The Magicians), Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Bath Sex, Blow Jobs, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Discussion of Abortion, Domestic Bliss, Eliot Waugh's Canonically Huge Dick, Family Feels, Gags, Happy Ending, Knotting, Knotting Dildos, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Nesting, Omega Quentin Coldwater, Omega Verse, Oral Knotting, Oral Sex, Quentin Coldwater's Canonical Oral Fixation, Relationship of Convenience, Rimming, Scent Marking, Scenting, Sex Magic, Spanking, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vacation, Worldbuilding, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 59,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29049696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shockvaluecola/pseuds/shockvaluecola
Summary: The problem Quentin has is that he never fucking knows when he's going into heat until it's on him.The problem Eliot has is that, while spared the worst of dumbass alpha behavior, he has really strong protective instincts.
Relationships: Margo Hanson & Eliot Waugh, Quentin Coldwater & Alice Quinn, Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Comments: 219
Kudos: 251





	1. i been guessin' and i coulda been guessin' wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, the tags say it all, don't they? I have no excuse for myself.
> 
> Thank you to the multiple people who have beta'd this at various points, I love you all, you're not off the hook for betaing the later chapters I'm still writing. I expect to be able to update weekly!
> 
> Title (and chapter titles) are from the song of the same name by Matchbox Twenty. Tags will be updated as we go!

So the problem Quentin had was that he never fucking knew when he was going into heat until it was on him.

The signs he showed were perfectly noticeable, was the thing, he always noticed _something_ , but the problem was that they weren't very _distinctive_. It was probably the depression -- most of his signs of going into heat were the same or similar to signs that he was about to hit a spiral. He didn't get nesting urges, although he usually ended up wishing he _had_ a nest, once he was in it, ending up exhaustedly trying to cobble something together between waves (maybe when he was a grown up successful magician with his own house with a denning room and an endless supply of wax melts that smelled like safety he could just keep one built, air it out every week or two so it stayed nice, but thus far in his life it hadn't been practical). There weren't any distinctive changes to his body except that he got a little hungrier, storing up energy, but that could just as easily be eating his feelings as they turned dark. Irritable mood, socially withdrawn, and trouble sleeping were all obvious depression classics.

So he ended up like this. He could see alpha heads turning as he hustled across the Brakebills campus, and Quentin felt bad about it, knowing he had to be pouring pheromones right now, but he was moving fast enough and the day was cool and windy enough that he wasn't going to send anyone into a sympathy rut just passing by. The fire under his own skin was still banked enough that he could ignore it, focusing on the one thought in his head: _the cottage the cottage bed bed the cottage bed bed bed bedbedbed **bedbed** \--_

Moments passed in a blur until Quentin made it to his bedroom and leaned against the locked door, finally letting out a whimper of need, knees weakening until he might have fallen right to the floor. 

The sound of footsteps in the hallway reminded him he wasn't done yet. He checked that the door was locked, then put up a soundproofing ward, desperately grateful that he'd have the freedom to get as loud as he needed. It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough to prevent anyone walking by from hearing him.

He felt like he was forgetting something as he dropped his bag and shed his sneakers and hoodie, but he was too needy to think anymore, stripping his clothes with shaky hands and then going into the drawer of his nightstand. He let out a sigh of relief as he found what he needed, hair hanging around his bare shoulders as he picked up a black silicone toy. It was really more of a plug than a dildo, basically a head, a half inch of shaft, and then the knot, but god, it was what he needed right now.

His bed would have to do for a nest. He slid under the blankets and grabbed the lube, not sure if he was slick enough yet and figuring he might as well be safe, the emptiness starting to burn. This was practiced habit, squeezing lube onto the tip of the toy and sparing only time to flip the cap shut before rolling onto his side and pressing it against his hole, holding it by the knot as the head started to spread him open.

Quentin muffled a needy groan in the pillow as he felt himself opening for it, lighting up his whole body. Not as good as a real knot, impossible, nothing could compare, but the silicone was soft and cushiony, the perfect amount of yielding where he was so sensitive, and the head was thick and satisfying as his body eased for it.

When his hole rested behind the head, Quentin paused, panting. Propped up on his side on one elbow and the other hand reaching back, this was the hard part. Obviously, a real knot went in loose and then was meant to inflate inside him -- it was a lot harder to take a knot that was already big. Most alphas might start swelling, but the knot wouldn't properly hit full size until something was squeezing it. 

Holding the base, Quentin rolled over onto his back, wedging the toy against the mattress and starting to grind down on it. He pushed until the muscle started to protest, holding himself there until it started to ache, pushing down again when he was ready, breathing deep and thinking about opening, trying to relax for it. He'd heal quickly, in heat, but if he tore something the next day or so would suck. He pulled his cheeks apart, helping things along, fingers slipping where he was slick against the knot already. That would make it easier. What also made it easier was knowing that he'd taken this thing dozens if not hundreds of times, that he didn't need any help and that he was perfectly capable of it with a little patience. He exhaled. Just relax for it.

A more insistent push of his hips, and he let out a whine like he was wounded as it stretched him inside. He reached down, feeling the base, making sure it was flush against him. The worst thing in the world was thinking he had it and then having it slip out.

Assured that it was safely locked, Quentin felt all his muscles turn liquid, his body going pliant to wait out the knotting. It was so his alpha could move him as needed, shift them into comfortable positions. It felt a little more vulnerable than he would have liked, without an alpha here to actually do that, but the bed was good enough for now, and he managed to pull the blanket up to his chin, just sitting on the knot and panting.

~

So the problem Eliot had was that, in contrast to all the dumb alpha shit he was _not_ cursed with, he still had really strong protective instincts.

Most alphas only got truly stupid about omegas they were bonded to, but not Eliot, of course. Any omega he spent a lot of time in the vicinity of gave him, at least somewhat, the urge to protect. He'd found ways to channel this, of course. In college he'd discovered that running a house a lot of people wanted to be at was really soothing, because he could know where his omega friends were and keep an eye on them in a reasonably non-invasive way. He could set house rules to protect them and make sure anyone who didn't show respect in his kingdom was frozen out. Of course, parties were the easiest way to accomplish this. More than once, Eliot had burst into a room where he could smell omega fear, voice booming in alpha register, running off some asshole who thought another alpha would look the other way (including one very awkward incident where he'd discovered that one particular friend had a fear kink and was perfectly happy with the goings on, fuck you very much). 

It was all much the same at Brakebills. He'd felt that need to shelter pretty much the moment he saw Quentin, which was a little soon for him, on average, but not enough to unsettle him. Alice gave him the same urge, though less intense, and even Penny, keen as he was to make sure everyone knew he needed no protection. He was attached to a decent alpha anyway -- Kady was prickly, but basically a good person -- so it was easy to put that feeling aside. Thankfully, his protective instincts did not come with possessive ones unless he was actually fucking someone. Rather than everyone being a threat, he was happy to see "his" omegas pair off to trustworthy alphas.

Little Q, though. He was just so sweet and hapless, Eliot had known within a week he was never, ever going to shake the protective urge for this one, even if he got claimed by the nicest alpha in the world. For a second he'd wondered about the friend, Julia, but it was unmistakable the way the touch of her hand could calm Quentin, gentle him down from escalating excitement or frustration. As thoroughly omega as Quentin was, Julia was just as thoroughly beta. Finding an excuse to casually take her hand and kiss the back, bringing her calming scent close to his nose, had confirmed it.

So, given how strongly Quentin set off his instincts, seeing Q hurtling across campus and then up the stairs of the cottage had Eliot worried. "Q?" he called up the steps as he passed. Quentin didn't even seem to notice, and Eliot made to follow him. "Q," he called again, and then he smelled it.

_Jesus._ Just a whiff of that was liable to get him knotted up. He knew some omegas put off heat-scent stronger than others, but Eliot wasn't sure if he'd ever scented someone quite so strong before. There were other notes, but right now all he could focus on was the heat. 

Eliot gripped the bannister hard and took deep breaths through his mouth, trying to smell as little as possible. This happened to some omegas, sudden heat. It was embarrassing for them, and not their fault, and the polite thing was to vacate the area and let a beta handle any distress that popped up. It was like crying in public -- everyone's done it once, no one does it on purpose, and you just look away unless you're going to offer a tissue.

Other alphas who lived in the cottage were already heading past him down the stairs, most holding books or notebooks or spellwork props. Taking their studying elsewhere, away from the pheromones. Eliot knew he should follow. _Walk away,_ he told himself. _Q doesn't need you. Walk away. Let him handle his own shit. Get Julia to help, that's something more constructive you could be doing._

Eliot was already moving, taking the steps two at a time and brushing past housemates. He went to Quentin's door. "Q?" he called through it.

The echo off the wood was flatter than it should be, and Eliot recognized the effect of a sound ward. He took a step back as two more alphas passed him, shirts over their noses, and made a window with his fingers. He could see that the ward was sloppy and rudimentary -- it would be, cast by a distressed omega in heat. He could pick it apart like nothing, but that would be unconscionably rude. Quentin wanted his privacy and Eliot should respect that.

He hadn't put up a scent ward, though, hadn't even shoved a towel under the door. His scent was going to keep pouring out of that room until he hit a lull and realized his mistake. Eliot wished he could remember the scent ward well enough to put it up for him. Protect him, hide him from the rest of the house. _Help_ him. Offer the tissue.

"Eliot!" He glanced over to see Margo at the top of the steps, finger under her nose and looking annoyed. "Everyone's going out to the patio, come on."

Against all good sense, Eliot inhaled deeply and put a hand flat on the door.

"What are you, a fucking teenager?" Margo demanded. "Get your ass out of that hallway before I come in there and drag you out!"

Eliot wanted to move. Well...he wanted to want to move. He wanted to want to want to move. That seemed right. The correct number of degrees of separation from an actual desire to move.

"Is this your protective shit again? You're gonna give yourself rut over Coldwater? Really?"

Eliot exhaled. "I can't leave him, Bambi," he said, voice booming against the door.

Margo just sighed. "Your funeral." Her heels clacked against the wood as she went back down the stairs.

He could relax now. It was just him here. Quentin was safe.

~

Quentin laid there, boneless and comfortable, for an indeterminate amount of time. Ten minutes, maybe? The light through the windows hadn't changed, so not very long. His limbs were waking up, though, and he whined a little, bracing his heels against the bed and grinding down on the toy. He tried not to think about the ache for a body on top of him. He pushed himself up on his hands to put more pressure on it, adding some of his weight to the grinding, and it startled a moan out of him.

One hand came to his cock under the blanket, making him whimper as it wrapped around him. "Please," he whispered to no one. It helped to imagine someone here, carrying him through this. "Please, I...oh, god, _knot me_ ," he whimpered, feeling himself close, teetering on the edge. The hand was almost pointless, the knot was going to get him off, but he stroked anyway, arm working under his blanket as he let out a sob, hips moving in circles against the toy. "Knot me, knot me, _please_ , alpha..."

A desperate cry wrenched from his throat as it finally took him, _finally_ , his cock dribbling as waves of pleasure crashed through his whole body, making him shake as he squeezed the knot hard, milking it for imaginary come. He collapsed to the bed all at once with one last desperate moan. 

The stretch was uncomfortable now, and Quentin moved one exhausted limb to hold the base so he could pop himself off it with a wounded whimper. He massaged his dick for a moment, then reached down between his legs to feel, explore a little. He was so wet he couldn't even feel the lube anywhere, it was almost all him. That was fine. Easier to get it in on the next wave.

Quentin just wanted to lay there, rest, but he knew he had limited time. He dragged himself up to sit, then to stand. Just a couple of minutes and then he could relax for the next couple of days. It was Friday, right? Maybe Thursday. Either way, hopefully he could knock this out over the weekend and not miss a lot of class. That was one of the most annoying parts of this whole thing.

Jesus, his bed basically had a fucking puddle on it. He should have put down a towel. Every time, he was like, next time I'm gonna put down a towel, and every time he forgot until there was already a mess. He definitely didn't have the energy to change the sheets, so he was going to have to-

Wait! Magic! A basic cleaning spell was one of the first things they'd learned, it being in the school's interest for a bunch of people in their early twenties living together to have access to easy cleaning. Quentin exhaled and shook his hands out, performing the tuts carefully -- magic still amazed him, every time, and it was something to be treated with respect, even when the purpose was gross.

Score one for magic. The sheets were still a little humid maybe, but mostly dry. Quentin retrieved his soft towel, folded it in half, and tossed it down. Still better to not have to think about it again.

He spent a minute or two making his bed into as much of a nest as he could, grabbing random hoodies for padding at the sides and pulling the extra blanket out of the closet, knowing he might want more warmth. Tissues? Tissues for wiping up would be good, he went hunting, ignoring the slick starting to drip down his legs.

Among all this, he almost didn't notice, but just as he was starting to feel empty again, he did a double take at the door. Shit. The crack under it was nearly an inch wide, he'd been filling this whole fucking house with his scent for the last half hour.

Hastily, he wet another towel and shoved it against the crack, hoping the moisture would help filter more. God, what an unbelievable rookie mistake. It would do for now, his scent was contained and would dissipate. It was kind of painfully embarrassing, but his heat was rising, pushing him to climb back into bed.

What if the sound ward wasn't holding? Paranoid, Quentin decided on safety, fumbling toward the night stand again. Safety and politeness was definitely and for sure the only reason he owned a ball gag. He fit the ball between his teeth, adjusting it comfortably, then buckling it tight around his head so he'd have to work to spit it out. He fiddled with it another minute, sighing and letting his eyes close. It made him think about an alpha tying behind his teeth, which Quentin had only ever fantasized about -- most alphas were too concerned for his airway -- but with the ball gag, he could pretend. He picked up the toy and curled up in his nest, whimpering softly as the head slid in with ease.

~

Eliot was in rut, he could feel it. For him, at least, it wasn't that different from feeling regular horny, except that his knot was aching like fuck and it would keep doing so until it got a good and proper squeeze. Rut wasn't as all-encompassing as an omega's heat, a sympathy rut like this would subside after an orgasm or two, as long as he stayed away from the scent for a bit. 

But he couldn't leave yet. What if Quentin wasn't okay? The mix of protectiveness and rut made him want to go in there, make _sure_ his omega had- _no_ , jesus fuck, not his, make sure his _friend_ had what he needed. Not just a knot, Eliot had watched him come straight upstairs -- was his heat going to subside enough to come out of there? Did he have food, water, for the times he could stop long enough for it?

Eliot did a tut to enhance his hearing temporarily and pressed his ear to the door, listening through the sloppy ward. God, fuck, Quentin was making noise, these fucking needy little omega whines. Eliot felt his breathing pick up and his knot throb a little, desperate to go in there and kiss those sounds right out of his mouth, fill him up until he made more of them. He had both hands and his ear and cheek pressed to the door now, eyes closed, picturing how pretty Quentin must look right now. How much prettier he'd look tied to Eliot. Would he squirm around, squeezing and working Eliot's knot? Or would he go limp and pliant, like a perfect little doll?

"Please...oh, god, knot me..."

Eliot's eyes opened as the bottom dropped out of his stomach. Was someone in there with him? How had they gotten in without Eliot noticing? Who was Quentin begging? _Who the fuck was touching him?_

"Knot me, knot me, _please_ , alpha..."

It clicked, and Eliot relaxed again. It was just fantasy noises -- no alpha could be so silent knotting an omega that Eliot wouldn't have heard them by now, and he would _definitely_ have smelled them and known to back off. This scent was pure needy omega, unattached and lonely. Eliot was also pretty sure no one actually called anyone _alpha_ outside a specific kink or heat porn; if Quentin was really with someone, he would say their name. 

It made Eliot's heart hurt a little. Behind this door, just ten feet away, was a lonely omega, desperate for help, and by all rules of good sexual practices, Eliot could do no more than he was doing right now, protect and pine. He felt more than heard a soft, rumbly sound of longing come from his chest.

More soft little whimpers, and then the sound of feet on the floor. Eliot felt his chest swell with pride. _Good job, baby,_ said his instincts, unbidden. He laid his cheek against the door and closed his eyes, stroking the wood like it was Quentin's head. _You did so good for me, you got through the first one, I'm so proud of you. Clean up if you can, it's okay if you can't, there's time. The next one's coming soon, but you know it won't last forever. There's nothing that can happen we can't put right when it's over._

God, what was _wrong_ with him?

The smell was subsiding too, and Eliot made himself pull away, regroup. Desperate to do something useful, he ran downstairs, grabbing an eight-pack of blue Gatorade, a couple of bags of beef jerky, a sleeve of crackers, and a box of fruit snacks. He carried the bounty upstairs and set it all on the floor outside Quentin's door, so that if he needed to emerge for energy, he didn't have to go far, and if he didn't, eventually someone would knock on his door and let him know it was there. No one was going to steal food from someone in heat, not when there was still plenty more of the same in the kitchen.

Eliot paused to squeeze himself through his pants. He really needed to take care of this. He pressed his ear to the door one more time. More whimpers, but oddly muffled now? Was he buried in a pillow? Probably it was fine, probably he was just on his stomach or something now, it was fine, it was fine.

Eliot's fingers were moving through the tuts of a spell that would let him peer through the door, a more intense version of checking on the ward. It was no worse than listening at the door, right? He wasn't _doing_ anything, he was just checking on Quentin. It was fine, it was all fine.

He didn't manage it perfectly, so the sight was kind of blurry. He squinted and brought his fingers closer to his eye, trying to resolve the image better. He was on his back, and his mouth was so red...no, no, there was something red _in_ his mouth (Eliot felt the fear that Quentin was bleeding somehow relax away) and there were black lines across his cheeks and-

Eliot dropped his hands quickly as he realized it. A gag. Quentin had gagged himself. Quentin owned a red ball gag and he had gagged himself and he was in heat and he'd been writhing and he was under the blankets but Eliot could imagine and he was pretty sure he'd snapped because there was this very distant, clear part of his mind reflecting that he wasn't sure if he'd ever wanted to knot someone as bad as he wanted to knot Quentin right now.

He was well aware that he could have used telekinesis to flip that lock and get in, and it was the effort of Eliot's life to instead turn, to charge up the steps to his attic room and slam and lock the door behind him, fumbling open his belt and slacks, sliding down the painted wood of the door until his legs flattened out beneath him. His cock was in his hands by the time his ass hit the rug, right jerking himself furiously while the left found his knot and squeezed hard. Eliot let out a deep, unrestrained groan as the ache bloomed and then dissipated, knot swelling inside his fist. He inhaled deeply, the traces of heat-scent still in his nose.

If he was where he wanted to be he'd make it last, make it so fucking good for Quentin, make sure he was good and satisfied. This, however, was for function, not flavor, so Eliot was pretty sure he only lasted about thirty seconds before making a mess of his rug, still squeezing the knot hard with one hand as he painted whitish stripes over the floor.

He let go of himself and winced because it was uncomfortable, unnatural to take pressure off the knot, but he ignored it for a moment, doing a quick tut to clean the rug and then getting up. He was still shivering a little, and moving around with a full knot was awkward, but he got his clothes off, too, tossing them over the foot of his bed and laying down. He squeezed the knot with one hand again while he leaned over and pushed a plastic shoebox out from under his bed. He grabbed a piece of red silicone and set it on the bed, doing the one-handed tut for lube. It was a hollow cylinder, maybe an inch wide and three inches long, at rest like this.

Finally, Eliot slid the knot-ring on, sighing in relief as it applied steady, even pressure where he needed it, hugging him tight and secure. Not as good as having it inside an omega (or a beta, or another alpha), but he wouldn't have to worry about keeping up the pressure as he worked out his shit. He was still in sympathetic rut, his knot would be shrinking by now if he weren't, but it would be fine. Quentin's scent was (regrettably) gone, so there was nothing new to respond to. A few more orgasms and he'd be in the clear.

~

When next Quentin was aware of anything other than his heat-haze, it was night outside. He fumbled for the lamp on his bedside, flinching away from the light when it came on. He flopped back, tired from the effort. He should probably think about showering. He doubted he'd have time to let the water heat up, and it was probably more useful in the long run to just try to nap. Being gross and dirty could be fixed easier and faster than being sleep-deprived, especially if he didn't want to miss classes.

On the other hand, if he showered, and if he was in a proper lull, he might wash heat-scent off himself enough to be able to go get food without fucking up the day of every alpha in the house. And it was Friday night, probably, maybe Thursday, either way there was almost certainly a party going on downstairs. Quentin sighed wistfully. Not that he necessarily wanted to like, be in a crowd, but he'd been getting used to the routine of sitting in the window or the study nook while a party went on and just people watching or talking to someone. It was nice to watch Eliot just be a people person. It was good to see someone thrive.

He lifted a hand and broke the sound ward he'd put up. The sounds of distant music and voices floated into the room, and it made Quentin smile. He'd come to find that noise comforting, and it would offer him some cover to make his own noise. Probably he should keep using the gag though, which he'd spat out and allowed to rest around his neck at some point. It was certainly no hardship to keep his mouth full.

He wished he'd had time to tell Julia what was happening. Maybe she'd heard by now, but if he could just get her a note. He didn't know the spell to enchant a paper airplane, but Alice did, and she wouldn't be affected by his scent. Okay, yes, this was a good plan. Julia had supported him through this before, made sure he had food, talked to him during lulls so he didn't feel totally isolated. Quentin took a breath and got up from bed, picking up a piece of notebook paper and a pencil.

The note was short and sweet, and Quentin pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt to at least, like, not flash anyone going to Alice's room, even though the fabric was itchy and heavy and too hot. It was just for a minute, he was not a slave to biology. God, he needed to get knotted so bad.

That thought was the first sign of the next wave, so Quentin pulled his door open quickly, startled when the action spilled a bleary-eyed Eliot onto his floor.

"Fuck," Eliot swore, putting a hand to his head where it had hit the floor with a _thunk_ and wincing. "Well, glad to see you're, you know, awake."

"Uh." Okay, so like, it wasn't like Quentin was all that, like, socially experienced navigating issues of sex and presentation, he had a very healthy relationship with his knot toys for a reason, but he wasn't a virgin either, and he'd had the same sex ed as everyone else, so he knew that an omega in heat discovering an alpha outside their nest was, like, _a whole thing_.

He was saved from having to figure out what to _do_ with this, because Eliot spoke again. "What are you doing?" he asked, sitting up and rubbing the back of his curly head, squinting sleepily at Quentin. "If you have time to be up you have time to rest."

"Uh," Quentin said again, then shook his head. "I could ask you the same thing. Were you _sleeping_?"

Against all odds, Eliot blushed. "I asked you first," he said.

Wordlessly, Quentin held out the paper airplane, words visible on parts of it. 

"Oh, good idea," Eliot said, nodding and taking it. "I'll see that Julia gets this. For Julia, right?"

Quentin nodded. Quentin had glimpsed the inside of Eliot's wrist when he took the note, and he wanted so badly to get down on his hands and knees, get on Eliot's level, bury his face against that wrist and that neck and inhale. He already felt the ache of needing to be full again.

Eliot seemed to notice, because something in his face changed. "Um, I brought you supplies," he said quickly, leaning over to push a whole pile of various nonperishables into the room. "Stay hydrated, okay? Remember to put the towel back," he said firmly, voice shading toward alpha register in a way that locked the command in Quentin's mind. He nodded automatically. 

"I'll do your sound ward," Eliot continued. "You'll be safe in here for the weekend. You'll be able to hear Julia and me through it in case of, like, a fire, but no one else. You'll be safe," he said again. It was hard not to hear an implication in it. _I'll keep you safe._

Quentin nodded mutely, afraid that anything he might say would just come out as 'please fuck me.' Eliot nodded back and pulled the door shut from his knees, almost scrambling back. Quentin retained just enough presence of mind to kick the towel against the door crack again, then stripped as fast as he could, already reaching for his toy as he slid back into bed with the damp towel and half-assed nesting. The head of his toy slipped inside easily, with how stretched and ready he was, and Quentin made a desperate noise as he pressed down on the edge of the knot. "Eliot," he whimpered, and cried out as the toy knotted him once more.

~

Eliot was going to get up and move. Any second now. Yes. He just needed to stay here on his hands and knees for a minute, trying not to fly headfirst into rut again. He'd just had an entire conversation with an omega in heat who had a _fucking ball gag_ sitting around his neck like the necklace from Eliot's personal horny hell, standing there like he wasn't obviously desperate to be naked, like the whole room wasn't thick with his scent, like there wasn't a _wet fucking towel on his bed, jesus_. Like he hadn't stared after Eliot's scent glands like he was starving for them, like Eliot hadn't been able to smell the wave of it as his heat picked up just at seeing them.

Actually, maybe instead of trying not to rut, he should just die instead. Death would be preferable.

Okay, this was fine, one foot on the floor first, then the other. Maybe he'd go downstairs and find someone who wanted to fuck so he could-

"Eliot!"

There was absolutely no mistaking that tone. Quentin was in the throes of heat again, and he was crying out Eliot's name. 

_It doesn't mean anything_ , he told himself firmly. _He just saw you, you're on his mind. It could have been any alpha. He'd yell like that for Margo or Kady, too._

That exception in the sound ward had been a fucking mistake. Quentin was panting his name now, over and over, _eliotelioteliot_ , and Eliot could hear the rhythmic squeak of those shitty old bed springs. 

Eliot put his hand on the door again, staring at it as his heart ached. God, he wanted to go back in there. Rut kind of sucked without a partner, and he'd heard heat was ten times worse. Not only was heat much longer, but the beginning was the most intense part of it, the neediest and most painful. Any amount Quentin was able to take care of himself right now would be impressive, without someone else present to do the thinking for him. Eliot felt his chest swell with pride again that Quentin had even managed to get dressed and write a note. Ultimately, Eliot knew he couldn't really imagine how bad it must be to go through heat at all, let alone without a partner.

He sighed, letting himself lean his forehead against that hateful door. Even if his knot hadn't been aching again, even if Quentin wasn't just about the hottest and cutest thing he'd ever seen, he knew his friend was suffering, and he hated it. He wanted to help, to _protect_ , but he couldn't. Quentin needed protection against Eliot as much as he needed it against everyone else, because he could not meaningfully consent to Eliot's help right now. Hormones could plausibly drive him to accept any alpha who offered while he was in heat, so there was no way to be sure if he really was fully consenting to having sex with Eliot, or if it was just too painful to be alone. That was no choice to force on a friend.

It was bad enough that he apparently couldn't help himself guarding, to the point where he'd fallen asleep leaning against Quentin's door. Guarding an unclaimed omega was usually a beta's job; an alpha who did it was pretty much declaring their intent to lay claim. Which he _didn't_ have.

At least, not unless Quentin wanted him to.

The idea of going back upstairs and jerking off again sounded unbearable, so Eliot went downstairs, looking around the room as he descended and letting his scent do the work for him. A couple of people were looking already, and he spotted Penny looking disgusted.

He didn't hear what Kady asked, but he could just make out Penny through the crowd. "Peacocking asshole. Can't you smell his rut?"

Eliot caught Penny's eye and gave him a wink above the crowd's heads, sparing a thought for why Kady couldn't tell that herself -- theoretically, alphas could smell each others' rut, it just caused urges other than the one to fuck. Well, mostly. Eliot could appreciate a good rut-scent, like, at least half as well as any omega.

Penny was right, though, this was kind of a power move, and a mildly dickish one at that. That was fine. Being a bit of a dick to a whole room was definitely preferable to hurting basically one of the only people he cared about in the world.

It didn't take long. Eliot had barely reached the bar to mix something before a boy approached, a short little Psychic in all black. He was Asian, with long black hair half-back in a ponytail. The black and gray flannel tied around his waist was a little tragic, but Eliot didn't have the urge to kick him out like he did most Psychics.

"Hi," the guy said, making kind of aggressive eye contact. Power bottom energy, nice. "You smell good. Wanna go back upstairs?"

Eliot put down the cocktail shaker he'd only just had a chance to pick up, smiling. "Love to." It was a little confusing trying to tease out one scent in this whole room, but he could definitely smell excited omega in there somewhere. He extended a hand to the boy and headed for the stairs with him, much more interested in this private party.

~

The Psychic boy made for a very enthusiastic partner, wiggling in delight when Eliot knotted him. It was kind of a lot, actually, he wouldn't stop fucking moving, but he didn't need to be asked to leave when they were done. He just fucked off on his own with a kiss to Eliot's cheek, so that was nice. 6/10, would again if options were scarce. Not long after he left, though, Margo was in his doorway.

"So do you wanna fucking explain yourself?" she asked.

"Hi, Bambi," Eliot said, leaning over for his cigarettes, a corner of the blanket tossed over his hips but otherwise naked. "Nice to see you too on this lovely evening."

"Not only did the entire fucking house see you guarding, you've given yourself rut _twice_ over a random O who you apparently can't keep your knot in your pants for. I know you can't help being protective, but this is way over the top, even for you. What the fuck gives?"

Eliot looked her over as he lit his cigarette. She was being Bambi about it, but he could see that her concern was genuine. "I don't think it's over the top," he mused, exhaling smoke. "I mean, you saw him come barreling in here like his ass was on fire. That freaked out the protection shit a little, but I'm okay."

Margo stepped inside and kicked the door shut, arms crossed over her chest, and Eliot noted with placid pleasure that it didn't make him bristle at all. He was always a little proud when his dumbass alpha brain did not do its dumb shit.

"Coldwater's not the first distressed omega in the house and he won't be the last. Is this gonna start happening every time?"

Eliot shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm close to a rut. I'm not due, but shit can be irregular."

"You don't smell close to a rut. I know, because you start smelling like a rotting bog to me. You smell normal."

"Well, _that's_ rude."

Margo just fixed him with a glare, so powerful that it made Eliot look down at his smoke. Looking away didn't help, he could still feel her eyes on him.

Fuck it. He took a deep breath and said the hard thing. "I...honestly don't know, Bambi." He looked up at her. "I'm doing my best? I just can't...like, even right now I want to go check on him, even though I'll probably chafe my dick into nothing if I go into rut again. I can't seem to stay away. I don't have an explanation," he said, spreading his hands and then taking another drag. "I'm just...his friend, I guess, and it sucks knowing he's suffering alone."

Margo's expression changed into one of concern, and she came and knelt on the bed, tucking her skirt under her knees as she sat back on her haunches. "El, I think it may be worth considering whether you feel more for him than a friend."

Eliot rolled his eyes, even as he felt a lump form in his throat. "Okay, my fucked up biology does not mean I'm in love with him."

"If it was just your biology, you'd do it for everyone. At least for more people. But Quentin is the first I've seen you act like this with. You alpha-voiced at me when you told me you weren't leaving him."

Had he really? "Shit," he said softly, and shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean..."

"I know you didn't," Margo said. "That's why I'm worried."

Eliot picked at the edge of a nail, cigarette in hand, as he thought about it. When he took a step back, his attitude _had_ been a little...territorial. More possessive than he would typically be of one of "his" omegas. He put it that way because there was definitely a difference between random omega on the street and someone he cared about sufficiently for the protection shit to kick in, and there was a difference between that and someone he'd actually claimed, or wanted to (which had happened exactly once and he wasn't eager to repeat it).

"Eliot, what is going _on_?" Margo pleaded. "Why do you look like you're about to kill yourself over a crush? Why are you so goddamn scared that you might want to claim him?"

Eliot glanced up at her, then took a drag of his cigarette, and noticed that his hands were shaking a little. "Pretty sure we're not supposed to talk about claiming people anymore," he said, and exhaled smoke. "It's sexist."

Margo just rolled her eyes. "Please tell a female alpha more about sexism," she deadpanned. "And stop avoiding the question."

Eliot thought of the answer, and was flooded with a rush of sense memory. _Hands warm in Indiana winter - sweet smell of happy satisfied omega - lips raw still tingling - joy of getting away with it - pretty omega whimpers of 'Eliot' - answering rumble in his chest -_

Eliot forced a shaky breath, looking down at his hands and not at Bambi. "I bonded once before."

Margo's voice was soft. "You never told me that."

"Yeah, because it- We were forced apart."

Margo didn't say anything, so Eliot continued, not willing to look at her. "Obviously it was just a scent bond, I didn’t bite him, but. In fucking Indiana they don't bother teaching you not to be queer, in sex ed, you're supposed to just _know_. They just teach you that alphas can only be with omegas and betas can be with each other or bonded pairs. I really, actually, _truly_ fucking thought we'd found a loophole," he spat, finally looking up to see Margo's look of sympathy and horror. "Have you ever lost a bond like that? One you didn't end on purpose?"

Margo shook her head. "No," she said softly.

"Well, that's why I'm terrified of fucking claiming someone," Eliot said, looking back down. His cigarette had gone out, so he lit his finger again. "I know how it feels to lose them." Shaky, he re-lit the cigarette, pulling deep until it burned his throat, letting the pain center him.

Heedless of his nakedness, Margo laid down on top of Eliot, cuddling him. Eliot wrapped the arm that wasn't holding his cigarette around her and buried his nose in her hair, taking a deep breath. Underneath the scent of her shampoo and coconut oil was _her_ , the deep and woody smell of another alpha. A scent as familiar as his own, he could smell her grief, her love, her sickening rage. He tapped his ashes in the half-empty glass on his night stand, and looked down into Margo's face as she propped her chin on his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you lost him, and I'm sorry I didn't know. I get why it's so scary for you now." She turned so her cheek rested against his skin instead. "What was his name?"

Eliot took another drag. His hands were a little steadier. Margo's weight was helping. "Trevor Misnick," he said, then smirked a little at himself, at the high school habit of giving everyone's last names. "He was a year below me at school, but we were both seventeen. God, Margo, I was _so happy_ , male omegas had like, barely been mentioned to me, so I just...I was so sure that my dad would be, like, not _thrilled_ , but not..." He swallowed. "Like, I really thought I was gonna fucking outsmart homophobia. I loved him so fucking much, Bambi." His voice broke into a whisper halfway through, and Eliot forced another deep breath. 

Margo lifted up and kissed him on the lips, firm and steady. It was calming, and she stayed there until Eliot's lips pressed back, then settled back down on his chest. "Okay, so let's look at this logically. If you did bond Coldwater -- I'm not saying you should or have to, but if you did -- it's a different situation than it was with Trevor. No one here is going to force you apart because of homophobia, and you're not likely to ever go anywhere that they will."

"He could die," Eliot countered. "That's just as bad. Worse." At least being separated had felt like he could do something. He'd fought to get back to his omega until his father had threatened to make sure he never bonded again. It hadn't really lessened the pain at all, but at least there was something to _push against_.

"Well, if you're bonded you'll be at his side. You can die together."

That...was such a goddamn Bambi argument, Eliot couldn't help laughing, charmed.

"Look, whatever you need, I'm here, El," Margo said, looking up at him once more. "You want me to take turns guarding Quentin with you, I will. You want me to find him another alpha so you can chill about him, I'll start looking. You want me to tie you to this bed so you can't go back down there, better settle in, bitch. Whatever comes next, I'll help you figure out once he's cooled off. But seriously, you have to take care of yourself. You're not in heat, your body isn't prepared to waste away for half a week."

Eliot sighed and stroked her hair. "I know," he said, dropping the spent cigarette butt in the glass, where it fizzled in the icemelt and went out. "I think, um...what I want is to be distracted? Try to help me think about things other than him?"

"Done," Margo said, patting him once on the chest and pushing herself to sit up. "Get some sleep, bitch, I'm waking you up early."

"Oh my god," Eliot said, closing his eyes. "What have I done?"

"The best thing you possibly could have for yourself. _Sleep_ ," she ordered, and left.

Eliot sighed and got up long enough to wash his face and go through his bedtime routine -- a life-ruining crush was no excuse for visible pores. He sighed, looking in the mirror. 

"Get your shit together," he told his reflection, alpha voice and all. It didn't help.

~

Margo's distractions over the course of the weekend did help, but Eliot was back at Quentin's door anytime he had a chance, unable to keep his mind off him. When he pressed his ear to the door, he usually heard quiet whimpers, waiting just long enough to make sure they were from pleasure, not distress. Sometimes, he heard soft snores, but once, he didn't hear anything.

"Quentin?" he called quietly, not wanting to wake him if he'd just found a good sleeping position.

"Yeah," came a soft voice back.

Eliot's heart leapt in his chest and he pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath. "You okay? Need anything?"

"No," Quentin said, and it was a little raspy.

"Try to drink some Gatorade and nap, okay? You're doing great."

Quentin didn't answer, but Eliot thought maybe he heard the crack of a plastic screw cap separating from its collar, so he backed away.

Sunday night, Eliot was standing at the stove, listlessly making himself dinner. Unthinking, he was making more than necessary to feed himself. He pretended it was so anyone who wanted could grab the leftovers, steadfastly not admitting who the excess was for. A shuffling step caught his attention, and he turned.

"Oh, wow," Eliot said, seeing Quentin in the doorway. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"Um, exhausted, mostly," he said, coming into the kitchen. "Really hungry." His eyes were on the pan Eliot was cooking at.

"Well, this is nothing special, but there's definitely more here than I'm gonna eat on my own. Sit down," Eliot said, nodding to the table. "It's almost ready."

"Thanks." Eliot glanced over and saw that Quentin had folded his arms on the table and was resting his cheek on them, and it made him smile.

"You can nap if you want to," Eliot said, chuckling. "I'll wake you when this is done. Did you get a chance to shower yet?" he asked, even though he could smell that Quentin hadn't.

"Mm-mm," Quentin said, eyes drifting closed, and Eliot couldn't help smiling. He was quiet as he finished cooking, some random stuff tossed into a stir-fry, but it was at least a balanced, hot meal. He filled bowls for himself and for Quentin and set Q's down in front of him as Eliot joined him at the table.

The click of ceramic on wood woke Quentin from his drifting and he lifted his head, sighing. "Thanks."

"Of course," Eliot said easily, and didn't bother trying to make conversation. He just watched Quentin go at the food like he was starving (which he presumably was) and ate quietly, enjoying the gentle burn of satisfaction somewhere high under his ribcage. The primal pleasure of watching an omega eat food he'd given them, the satisfaction of a base instinct to protect and provide.

Once his bowl was empty, Quentin sighed and sat back. "Do you want more?" Eliot asked, nodding to it.

Quentin shook his head. "No, that was perfect. Thanks. Hey, um. Do you wanna come upstairs and help me real quick?"

"Sure," Eliot said, before it could occur to him to wonder what Quentin needed help with. "Let me put these in the sink and I'll meet you up there, okay?"

Quentin nodded and headed upstairs. Eliot didn't linger, just followed him quickly, shutting the door behind him. Q was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt off (seemed normal, clothes probably still itched right now), but he stood when Eliot entered.

"Hey," Quentin said, moving towards him.

"Hey."

"I, um." Quentin went up on tiptoes and kissed him.

For a moment, Eliot couldn't help but kiss back. Quentin's hands were on his shoulders, pulling him into it, Quentin's mouth was opening so Eliot's had to open too, and then it was just natural for his tongue to-

"Whoa," Eliot said, breaking the kiss. A nervous little laugh bubbled up. "Um? I, uh." Wow, when was the last time he'd been speechless?

He looked at Quentin, whose face was quickly going from confusion to horror. "Oh, god, I-"

Thinking fast, Eliot kissed him, wanting to stop whatever panic attack he was working on before it got anywhere. He kept it chaste this time, more to soothe than to inflame, and when he pulled back, his hands came up to cup Quentin's cheeks.

"Please don't get me wrong, little Q. I'm not mad about you kissing me," he said with a smile. "I just...wasn't expecting it?"

Quentin, against all odds, just cocked an eyebrow at him. "Seriously?"

Eliot raised both eyebrows.

Eyerolling, Quentin continued. "I mean, you brought me food. You made sure you could hear through my ward and you checked on me, like, twenty times. Julia told me you'd been guarding me. You never did give her my note, by the way, she just heard. You did everything except, like, _actually_ come in here and fuck me. An unattached alpha doesn't do all that stuff for an unattached omega unless..." Q raised his eyebrows.

Well, laid out like that, yeah, Eliot had to admit it looked...a certain way. Exactly like Margo had told him it did. Bambi was always right, he should know it by now.

"I didn't really mean...it wasn't intended as a claim. But," Eliot said quickly. "I'm definitely not going to say no to you kissing me in your bedroom. Especially now that you, you know, can actually consent," he said, and Quentin briefly raised his eyebrows in a kind of agreement. "I guess I'm just...confused about why? Or at least, why right now?"

"I don't know, Eliot," Quentin sighed, shaking his head and looking exhausted. "I mean, if you don't want to that's fine, I'll just, like, go to bed I guess," he said, and Eliot quietly thought he probably should not do that until someone had changed his sheets, "but it would just be nice to feel like someone... _gives a shit_ about me, like, for once."

Eliot could feel his heart breaking, and he wanted to rip out the throats of everyone who'd ever made Quentin feel differently. "I give a shit," he said. "I just...want to be sure _you_ want to, you know? You're not...I mean, your heat is broken, I'm...sure of that." All the heat-smell in the room now was stale and old, not _gross_ but no longer actively appealing. "I just...I spent all weekend making sure no one could hurt you and I didn't do all that just to hurt you myself, you know?"

Quentin nodded. "I get that. And I, um. Appreciate it. It's, uh, scary, the first time in a new place?" he admitted, cringing a little. Eliot was resisting the urge to grab the back of Quentin's neck. His thumb would fit into the space behind his ear so perfectly, and then the scent gland in his wrist would be right up under Quentin's jaw, he could make Q smell like him so easily...

"So it means a lot that you. Um, you made me feel safe, knowing you were...checking, even if not, like, always there," Quentin continued. "It's not even really about that, though, this isn't like, obligation or a thank you or something, like, I mean, yeah it's _you_ because of that, but like, I assure you, this is like, entirely, almost completely, uh, 100% selfish."

Eliot took a breath. "Okay, here's the deal," he said, taking both of Quentin's hands. He didn't trust himself not to scent him if he touched anywhere else. "I'm gonna put you in the shower. You don't have to take a long time, just rinse off for a few minutes, so you feel better. While you do that, I'm gonna change your sheets and get you some clean clothes. And if you want..." Eliot looked down and bit his lip, hesitating a moment. "I'll get you something soft that smells like me, so you can sleep easier." Alpha smell would help him feel safe to sleep faster, but accepting someone giving you their scent was a deeply intimate thing. "Okay?"

Quentin nodded, and Eliot was getting the sense he was just happy to not have to make decisions. "That sounds good," he said softly.

"Good," Eliot said, and kissed his forehead. "Do you want help getting undressed?"

Quentin shook his head. "No, it, uh. Helps to do stuff for myself."

"I get that. Come on out when you're ready, then," Eliot said, kissing his forehead and giving him a little push toward the bathroom door. Quentin turned to go, but Eliot found it hard to let go of his hand. Quentin turned back, looking down at their joined hands and then up at him.

Eliot gave him a little smile, then drew him back in for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper, lazy but filthy. Quentin fucking _melted_ in his hands, and Eliot had to resist the urge to shove him down on the bed. He rested his forehead against Quentin's for a moment when the kiss broke, exhaling, then sent him on his way again, this time with a light slap to the ass.

There were no candles, so first order of business was to open a window, clear some of the thick scent from the air before it got stale in here. That done, Eliot stripped Quentin's bed and shoved the sheets and towels into his hamper, grabbed the towel off the floor too, then did a tut to get the mattress a little cleaner. He put new sheets on the bed, deemed his duvet acceptable, and tossed it back over the top without bothering to tuck it in -- it was just gonna get fucked up in a minute. He did the pillowcases, too, then ran up to his room for a cable-knit cardigan he'd been wearing last night. He buttoned it over one of the pillows and set it aside, smoothing it down with his hand. _Giving_ someone your scent was just as intimate as accepting it, it was...a lot. But feelings or otherwise, Eliot wanted to help. Needed to help.

_It's just to help him sleep,_ he told himself. _Quentin doesn't like you that way. He said it, he just needs to feel cared for. He might not even want you for heats. Give him that, and then give him space._

Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn't, but it was keeping this...survivable, so. Eliot kicked his shoes off by Quentin's door, then stripped, wanting to greet Quentin naked, meet him where he was. He was undoing his belt as he heard the water cut off, and had just laid his boxer briefs on top of his folded trousers on the desk when the door opened.

Eliot looked up with a smile, a little pleased by Quentin's startled look. "Hey, sweet boy. Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Quentin said, and yawned, toweling his hair. "I'm not tired, I still want to do this," he said quickly.

"I think you are tired," Eliot said with a chuckle, coming over to take the towel and do it for him. "But I'm more than happy to fuck you to sleep, don't worry."

Quentin blushed, but submitted to having his hair toweled until it was just damp, no longer dripping. Eliot took the towel to the hamper with the rest -- it had never occurred to him how many towels an omega had to own, jesus -- then came back and stood facing him.

"Can you still get wet for me, baby?" Eliot asked, stroking Quentin's hair back from his face. "It's okay if you can't, I just don't want to hurt you."

Quentin nodded, licking his lips. "I can still get wet for like, twelve hours or so and it's only been, like, two."

Just as alphas didn't knot unless they were rutting, male omegas didn't get wet unless they were in heat. While it took some time for the body to readjust to normal operating procedure, the amount of time it took really varied, and twelve hours was on the long end.

(Eliot tried not to think about that, about how with his strong heat-scent and such powerful need and getting slick for so long, god, Quentin was so obviously meant for pups, a little factory for them, everything about him from his lips to his legs optimized to be bred. Eliot had never in his life been turned on by the thought of breeding, but god _damn_ was it hard not to think about Quentin's belly swelling.)

"Are you, um," Quentin started, then stopped.

"Am I what, baby?" Eliot asked, still petting his hair. Almost as an afterthought, he did a tut to dry it. Probably still damp near the roots, but dry to the touch now.

"Um." Quentin glanced away. "You know, I'm not in heat anymore, so I assume you're not...you know. In rut."

"No," Eliot agreed. "I'm not."

"So you can't..."

Eliot tilted his head to the side. "Are you asking if I can knot?"

Blushing, Quentin nodded.

It made Eliot smile a little. "Do you want that?" he asked, pulling Quentin into his chest. Quentin nuzzled in, not going for his neck, but clearly happy for the skin contact. He nodded as Eliot carded fingers through his silky hair. "It might take some extra work, but I can try. I bet if I eat you out, you've still got enough heat on you to get me there."

Quentin shivered against him. "That...that sounds nice."

"Yeah?" Eliot asked, soft and sweet. "Wanna come on my knot, baby boy?"

Quentin nodded, head rolling against Eliot's shoulder, and Eliot was probably going to die, he was so sweet.

"Okay, let's lay you down," he urged, guiding Quentin down into the soft, clean sheets, with his clean, scrubbed skin. God, he was a vision. "Feeling okay, baby?" he asked, rubbing his hands up Quentin's thighs. "Not too tired?"

"I'm good," Quentin said, shaking his head. 

"Good boy," Eliot said. "I won't make you talk or do anything now, but you can tell me if you want me to stop, okay? Always, even if we're tied, I'll figure it out. Understood?"

Quentin nodded and let his head drop to the pillow, so Eliot started guiding his legs up bent. He placed Quentin's hands on the backs of his knees, so he was holding himself up, then bent to trail a line of kisses down the back of Quentin's thigh.

He was already a little wet, and Eliot reached up to pet his hole, just lightly touching it, teasing. Eliot felt like he was on the knife's edge of rut already -- he'd felt close to it all weekend. It was like his alpha biology had taken his feelings for Quentin and designated him _mine_ without any need for a real bond. He lifted his head, thinking of it, and looked up at Quentin again.

"Are you on anything to be safe, baby boy?" Eliot asked, then shook his head a little, hands already moving into the tuts. There was no reason to rely on whatever Muggle birth control Quentin might have when the magic stuff was foolproof. Theoretically, he shouldn't be fertile while out of heat, but this close, it was kind of a gamble.

"There, safe and sound," Eliot said, kissing Quentin's stomach, then nuzzling at his prick, tongue coming out to lap at it. Quentin whined a little, pulling his legs further apart, and Eliot chuckled, leaving it alone to slide down, licking across Quentin's hole.

Three licks and he could feel the telltale ache at the base of his cock. He let out a soft, shuddering groan, reveling in the pain, and went at it harder, pushing his tongue into that pretty hole and licking inside. Quentin made a desperate little noise, high and needy, and Eliot could feel how wet he was getting, how badly he wanted it. More importantly, he was still opening up easily, eager to accept a knot. He wouldn't need fingers, not even for what Eliot had.

He pulled away and got up on his knees, looming over Quentin. He was hard enough to jerk himself now, stroking the long length with one big hand. The look on Quentin's face was...Eliot would almost call it fear, if it weren't so open and wanting. It looked like _rapture_.

"Are you...?" Quentin asked.

Eliot nodded. "My knot's gonna stretch you so good, baby boy." Quentin shivered just at those words, eyes closing briefly. "How do you want me? Mounted?"

Quentin shook his head and swallowed. "Like this. Wanna see you."

"Good boy," Eliot said, low and rough, and laid down over him. He took Quentin's hands away from his legs and urged them to wrap around his waist. A rough kiss to that wanting, eager mouth, and Eliot looked down to see what he was doing, using his hand to guide it. He rubbed the head against Quentin's wet hole, then held it steady to sink inside.

"Oh my god," Quentin whimpered. "Oh god, you're...you're _big_..."

"Doing okay, baby?" Eliot asked, looking up at him. "Am I hurting you?"

Quentin shook his head, biting his lip hard and squeezing his eyes shut. "Hurts good. Fuck me, please..."

Eliot grinned wide and kissed his cheek, then pushed all the way inside, up to the hilt. Quentin let out a wounded noise and wrapped his arms around Eliot's shoulders as Eliot planted his elbows on either side of Quentin, holding himself up just enough so Quentin could breathe, and started to move.

Eliot had worried a little that he was going to be fighting instinct to give Quentin what he needed, that rut would make him want to _fuck_ fast and rough, but now that he was in it, he saw he'd never needed to worry. Every instinct, every thought, every cell in his body was focused on the needs of the omega under him. Quentin needed it slow and gentle and sweet, so it was the easiest thing in the world to give it to him that way. Eliot kissed him, over and over, hips moving slow, but deep and steady. Quentin chased almost every kiss as Eliot pulled away, whimpering and moaning in between. He was so hungry to be kissed, and Eliot was happy to feed him.

He almost didn't notice how close he was until a thrust made Quentin gasp, the knot starting to catch at his rim. Eliot shivered and pushed in, grinding into him, then pulled out again, feeling the tug. "I feel it too," he panted, shuddering again as his hips picked up speed. "Ready for me?"

"Yes, yes, please, knot me," Quentin whimpered. Eliot planted a kiss on his mouth as he gave one last thrust, the groan muffled against Quentin as he came hard. His knot swelled and locked them together, the squeeze fucking _exquisite_ , and Eliot pressed his face into Quentin's chest, groaning again. There really was fucking nothing like knotting inside a needy, pliant boy. 

Quentin was pulling on his hair urgently, so with a laugh, Eliot lifted up and kissed him again. "You're so good, baby boy, you're being so good for me." Another kiss. "Can you feel my knot? Does it feel good, sweetheart?" Quentin nodded desperately, and got another kiss for it. "Good. I want you to feel good, my baby. You're making Daddy's knot feel so good."

Eliot hadn't meant to say that, and was expecting some kind of reaction from Quentin, but he was apparently so out of it, so high on sex and alpha pheromones, that he didn't even notice, just tried to get Eliot to kiss him again. He did, laughing, then rested on his chest again.

"I'm gonna move us, okay baby?" Quentin nodded and tightened his arms around his shoulders. Eliot got a hand firm under his lower back, so he could keep from jostling the knot too much. From there, he carefully rolled over onto his side, bringing Quentin along. He made a little uncomfortable noise as the knot tugged a little sharper than Eliot wanted, but they made it without too much fuss, and it let Eliot settle more. Quentin's legs were still around him, one pinned to the bed under Eliot's hip, and it kept them cradled perfectly together.

"That's better," Eliot breathed out, and kissed Quentin again. "Now I can work on you," he said with a smirk, and reached down, dragging his fingers over Quentin's cock. He was a decent size, and not even, like, 'for an omega' -- it was Eliot's experience that dick size didn't actually vary that much based on your presentation, even for all that it was fun to fetishize big alpha cocks and slim little omega pricks. Then again, dick size didn't vary that much, like, in the general population. With some rare outliers.

Focusing back on the present moment, Eliot wrapped a hand around Quentin, who whimpered and squirmed. "Do you want me to keep going?" Eliot asked, soft and quiet. "Or do you just want to sit with it a minute?"

Quentin shook his head frantically and pushed at Eliot's hand, so he let it slide away. "Good boy. It's okay, I've got you. Shhhh." He kissed Quentin's cheek, then the bridge of his nose, then his mouth. "Settle for me. That's it."

Quentin sighed and pushed himself up against Eliot's chest, bringing his arms in so he could curl up, shoving his head up under Eliot's chin like a cat. Eliot chuckled and wrapped his arms around Quentin, rubbing his back. "That's it, baby. Just wanna feel the knot for a while, huh?" Quentin nodded against him, and Eliot kissed the top of his head. "Good boy."

Being wrapped around each other like this felt good and right. Eliot drifted a little, not quite sleeping, but not quite awake either. What woke him was feeling his softened cock slip out, suddenly exposed to cool air instead of warm and squeezed.

"Sorry, babe, I didn't even-" Eliot cut himself off as he looked down at Quentin. He was still curled contentedly into Eliot's chest, eyes closed, breathing deep and even. He'd fallen asleep on the knot, and losing it hadn't woken him.

Eliot bit his lip and brushed a lock of hair back over Quentin's ear. He sighed and turned toward the hand a little, but didn't wake.

As tempting as it was to stay right here and follow him, sleeping over had not been part of this agreement. So, carefully, Eliot lifted Quentin's top leg off his hip and pushed it to rest on the bed. Then he rolled away, releasing the bottom leg from his weight. Quentin didn't react again through this procedure, so Eliot exhaled and padded quietly to the desk, pulling on his underwear and pants, then his shirt, without buttoning it. He picked up the pillow with his sweater on it and put it up near Quentin's head.

Quentin hummed and turned into it, wrapping his arms around and burying his face against it. It made Eliot's heart ache, but he wasn't going to sleep in Quentin's room without Quentin explicitly agreeing to it, not when he'd already fucked up so many boundaries this weekend. He just pulled the comforter up over Quentin so he was covered to the chin and gave his hip a soft pat.

It was hard to take his eyes off Quentin as he picked up his shoes and the rest of his clothes. Eliot just breathed slow and moved steadily until he was alone in his room. 

He looked at his bed, which seemed cold and barren. _Quentin could make it nice,_ he thought, not wanting to. _He could build you the most perfect little nest. Just you and him, all twined together for as long as he'd have you._

Eliot was exhausted, but crawling into bed felt like running a mile.

~

Quentin slept straight through all his morning classes on Monday, but when he got up around 11:30, he felt ready to go to his afternoon classes, so it wasn't a total loss. After a thorough shower and a change of clothes, he went downstairs to find lunch, even though it was technically breakfast, but he was entirely unwilling to call it brunch.

A part of him was definitely hoping to find Eliot again, like last night, but it was Alice who turned and looked when he came in. "Oh, hey," she said. "Good to see you up and about. Feeling okay?"

"Yeah," he said, giving her a little smile as he went to the fridge. "Just really hungry."

"I bet," she said, turning back to slicing an apple. "Do you need the notes from this morning?"

It was easy to talk about this with another omega, someone he knew understood. Solidarity, and whatever. Alice had been through her own heat a couple of weeks into the school year, when they were all still in the dorms. "Yeah, that'd be great, thanks. Um, I'll get them from you this afternoon, maybe, after classes? Also, um, can you teach me that paper airplane spell, to send notes?"

"Sure, it's not hard," Alice said. "It's a little fiddly, with the river close by, but it doesn't hurt the paper so you can keep trying."

Quentin nodded, turning as he took a container of lunch meat and a couple wrapped slices of cheese out of the fridge. He stopped in his tracks when he glanced toward the doorway.

Eliot gave him a soft smile. "Hi."

Quentin tried to swallow his heart, which was in his throat now. "Hey."

"I'll see you after classes," Alice said, clearly sensing something weird going on as she took her apple slices and peanut butter and beat a hasty retreat. 

Once they were alone, Quentin spoke again. "Hey."

"Hey," Eliot said again, with a little chuckle. "Feeling better?"

Quentin nodded. "Much, yeah." He realized he was still holding his food, and took it to the counter. "Um, I was gonna make a sandwich. Do you want one?"

"Only if there's enough," Eliot said, which...yeah, made sense. It occurred to Quentin to wonder whether Eliot had intentionally made extra food last night, but the thought passed too quickly to take hold.

"Um, I think there is if we get some potato chips," he said, nodding toward the pantry. Understanding his cue, Eliot went and grabbed two individual-size bags of Doritos while Quentin made sandwiches. He held them up for approval, and Quentin nodded, thinking that it would be weird, somehow, to see Eliot eat Doritos.

Chips and sandwiches in hand, they headed back toward the living room. "So I wanted to check in," Eliot said as they walked. He turned and handed Quentin one of the little bags, and Quentin traded him for a sandwich. "Make sure everything was okay last night, because you didn't..." Eliot trailed off in a way that was obviously supposed to be meaningful, but Quentin just stared blankly.

"Didn't what?"

Eliot smiled like he was trying not to. "You didn't come, Quentin."

"Oh." Quentin actually hadn't even realized that until right now. "Okay, I mean, that explains the weird sex dream." He shrugged. "It's...fine? I mean, I guess it would have been nice, but it wasn't really...about that. It was about..." He shrugged again.

"Comfort?" Eliot supplied, and Quentin nodded. Eliot nodded too, moving to sit down on the couch. "I get that. I just wanted to check in. I'm not in the habit of leaving anyone...unsatisfied."

"You didn't," Quentin assured him, shaking his head as he sat too. "I got what I needed."

"I'm glad," Eliot said, smiling again.

"I appreciated the help, even if it wasn't, like. Well. You can, um. I mean." Quentin rubbed the back of his neck, sandwich and chips sitting in his lap. "Well, you know, the next time you're in rut, you can, um. I mean, not that you've ever had, like, _trouble_ finding people, that's pretty obvious, but, um-"

"I'd love to," Eliot said, before Quentin could get any further with this. "It's not really as...all-consuming as being in heat? But it would be nice to know there's a safe person around I can spend rut with, instead of hoping to find someone who's up for it."

Quentin felt the tension run out of his shoulders with a sigh, and he nodded. "Yeah. Um. Good. So that means I can, uh, next time I'm in heat...?"

"If you want that," Eliot said, nodding. "I'd be honored to help."

"You...honestly have no idea what a relief that is," Quentin said, breath leaving him in a rush and then laughing softly.

"Same," Eliot said with a little smile. "I mean, if you're amenable I'd love to get synced up so I stop getting true rut. It may not be as all-encompassing but it's still a day or two where I'm useless."

Quentin nodded. He remembered learning about that in sex ed -- alphas stopped getting true rut after two or three cycles with the same omega, because their body was getting that need filled during the sympathy rut. Being an alpha was great like that, apparently. "And I'm sure it's pretty bad alone."

Eliot shrugged. "I mean, obviously it's nicer to put a knot somewhere warm, but biologically it's not that different."

"Oh." Quentin nodded again. "It's, um. Heat's a lot worse alone than with someone? I mean, at least for me, so, I guess I assumed it was the same. It's like, if I have an alpha, you know, it's still gonna take a few days out of my life but we usually have time to eat or shower or re-nest before I...you know." Eliot was tilting his head curiously, which was making Quentin deeply self-conscious, but he forged on. "But, um, you know, if it...alone I like barely have time to eat a cracker, they come on so fast and so...hard. So it's a lot worse alone or...well, honestly, without an alpha."

Eliot nodded thoughtfully. "So you're smooth."

"Yeah," Quentin admitted, with more than a tinge of embarrassment. "I mean, I've tried with betas and, um, with other omegas, but it just. Doesn't work for me. I mean, primary, I guess, doesn't matter, I like men and women just the same, as long as they're...you know. Alpha."

Another nod. "Well, I'm the opposite. I'm primary...mm, let's call me a five, but presentational pan. Margo's smooth, though, not into betas or other alphas at all."

Quentin nodded and opened his Doritos. "Um, Julia's ex was sly," he offered. "I don't know if she's mentioned, James? Other betas only. So. It's not like it's weird to me."

Eliot nodded, leaning on his elbow propped against the back of the couch. "Well. I knew heat was hard alone, but I had no idea it was actually physically worse without an alpha. I'm really glad you won't have to go through that again, now that I'm here."

"Me too," Quentin said, and picked up his sandwich to take a bite. "And, um, you know. You can guard me while also being actually useful," he said, giving Eliot a little smile. 

Eliot laughed, and Quentin was glad he hadn't misread, that the teasing was being taken well. "Yeah, my, uh. I don't know if you've heard about this, but I have, like, really out of control omega protection instincts? There's a lot of alpha instincts that I don't have too badly, but it's like that one compensates."

Quentin felt something flicker and die inside his chest. So it really wasn't a _claim_ , then, just like Eliot had said. Just biology getting in the way of trying to live like a civilized person. Eminently relatable, and...a little disappointing, to realize he meant nothing by it. Quentin made himself nod like it was no big deal. "I hadn't heard, but that's, um, good to know. I, uh...I mean, it makes it a little embarrassing that I...took it the way I did, but. It worked out, so."

Eliot grinned at him. "It did."

"Oh! Um, I should give your sweater back," Quentin said, remembering it. He'd woken up clutching that pillow.

"I mean, it..." Eliot paused. "I don't know if you might want to...keep it, or anything, if it would help you? I've heard having alpha smell around can be...nice."

"Um, well. I've heard that too, for some, but it, uh, kinda just makes me horny more often? Like it's not like I get a whiff and have to fuck, but like, it'll have me, uh." Quentin blushed as he abruptly realized what he was about to say. "You know. Like, jerking off every day instead of every couple days."

"Well," Eliot said, smirking. "I can't say that's necessarily _un_ appealing. So you can bring it back, yeah. Or, you know. Keep it, and come find me." He delicately ate a Dorito.

"Um." Was he like. _Offering?_ Surely not, it was just the alpha protection stuff, right?

Eliot laughed. "Jesus, Coldwater, you look like I just stripped you naked and offered to shave you."

"Please don't," he said weakly. "I mean, um. I." He looked down at himself, like this would reveal something. "I mean, like...why though?"

Eliot shrugged. "I dunno. Knotting you was fun, but you've got me...curious about you. I'd love to see what you're like when you're not fresh out of heat or passing out."

Quentin wasn't sure anyone had ever expressed being _curious about him_ , especially not anyone...on Eliot's level. He was, like, the absolutely quintessential modern alpha, free of outdated stereotypes and working to control his biology rather than giving into it, but still a king ruling over his realm. Absolutely everyone on campus knew who Eliot Waugh was, as far as Quentin could tell, and he...he wanted _Quentin_.

"I. Um." Okay, okay. Sexual curiosity. That was all this was, no need to get all needy and excited about it. Just fun between friends, and help when help was needed, and that was all. He could handle that. They both could handle that. Quentin nodded. "Um, okay. Yeah, sure. I mean. Why the fuck not?"


	2. i feel ugly but i know i still turn you on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, as always, to redtoblack and nicolesolo for betaing!

So casual sex with Eliot turned out to be, like, totally doable, if just slightly life-ruining.

They weren't exclusive at all -- Eliot continued to take boys upstairs, and Quentin even managed to make out with one of Julia's Knowledge classmates. It was a nice time, but that was kind of all it was. More free nights than not, he ended up in Eliot's room, or Eliot came to his, and they spent evenings together. It was just so much better, with Eliot? They'd clicked together easily, even in the beginning, and it only took a couple of weeks of regular assignations for them to learn each other well enough that it was...like, maybe some of the best sex Quentin had ever had, actually.

It was about a month after he'd been through heat, nearing finals, and they both needed a little stress relief. So Quentin was in Eliot's lap, thighs spread wide over his hips, sighing as he sank down onto Eliot and ground his hips a little.

"Yeah, that's it," Eliot sighed. "Mmm, you make me feel so good, baby boy."

The mood was easy and chill, so Quentin leaned forward to rest his weight on Eliot as he started to move up and down, riding him well. He tucked his head up against the crook of Eliot's shoulder and inhaled, letting himself swim in the familiar scent.

Something was different tonight. It wasn't a cologne or an aftershave or anything -- Quentin could always smell him right through those anyway. It distracted him a little, but then Eliot's big hands gripped his hips and guided him into the pace he wanted, so Quentin didn't focus on it, gasping as Eliot's fingers ghosted along his cock, teasing him.

Quentin huffed at it, giving Eliot's curly hair a sharp little tug. "Don't be a _dick_ ," he murmured. "Teasing bastard."

Eliot's hand sank into Quentin's hair and pulled _hard_ , much harder than the little tug he'd given Eliot, until Quentin's back was arched and he was looking at the ceiling, depending on Eliot's other arm around his waist to keep him upright. "I'll do whatever I want to you, baby boy," he rumbled, shooting lightning straight to Quentin's cock. "And you'll like it, won't you?"

So it was one of those nights. Quentin whimpered a little and nodded. "Yes, sir," he gasped. 

Eliot laughed, low and mocking. "Oh, _now_ you're all sweet," he purred. "Watch, next it'll be 'I'm sorry, sir' and 'I wanna be good, sir,' won't it?"

Quentin forced himself to laugh, even though that was kind of exactly what he wanted to say. "When have I ever?" he asked instead, voice strained from the pressure on his neck.

Eliot made a soft growling noise and leaned in to inhale under Quentin's jaw, and Quentin could feel the scenting like a touch, even though Eliot's nose wasn't contacting his skin. Another satisfied growl, and it occurred to him suddenly what the odd scent on Eliot's skin was.

His hair was yanked hard again, making Quentin cry out and bounce a little higher on Eliot's dick, working harder for him. Eliot chuckled. "Bet you wish I'd go back to just teasing you now."

"Uh-uh," Quentin said, shaking his head as much as he could and opening his eyes to look down at Eliot from this odd angle. "This is better."

Eliot's grin was open and delighted, like Quentin had surprised him, and Quentin moaned as long fingers wrapped around his cock again, making his thighs flex.

When they were done, Eliot was gentle with him almost to the point of solicitousness, helping him lay down and kissing his neck as he did the cleaning tuts so they could snuggle up. "Are you okay, baby boy?" Eliot asked. "I know I got a little wild on you in the middle, there."

"It's okay, I liked it," Quentin assured him, gratified when Eliot smiled. God, it would be so easy to get lost in that smile, just looking into his eyes. Instead, Quentin cleared his throat. "Um, I think you're going into rut soon."

Eliot looked away from him for a moment, eyes narrowed slightly, and nodded. "Yeah, I'm due. That would explain why I got so...like I did, tonight, too. What made you think so?" he asked curiously, looking back at Quentin.

"You smell different," Quentin said. "I wasn't sure what it was at first, but then you were doing those alpha growls, which isn't like you."

Eliot rolled his eyes fondly. "Okay, _alpha growls_ are not a thing."

"Totally a thing," Quentin said, smiling. "And you're full of 'em right now."

Eliot just chuckled and shook his head, stretching out next to Quentin. "Well, if you're smelling it, that means I've got about a day, maybe two. You didn't smell it this morning, right?" he asked, looking over. Quentin shook his head; Eliot had smelled normal when they shared a shower before classes. He nodded. "Margo wasn't avoiding me, either, she hates rut scent. So, maybe tomorrow, let your professors know you'll be out of class Wednesday and maybe Thursday?"

Quentin nodded. "Will do."

"And because I know you're worried about it, I'll even help you study for what you miss."

" _Thank you_ ," Quentin said fervently.

~

"Excused absences are only for your own cycle, or for that of your bonded partner," Sunderland said, crouching to a low shelf. Quentin tried not to look at her skirt stretched over her ass. 

"That, um, seems, like. Not fair to people who are in rut?"

Professor Sunderland stood and turned, looking at him over her glasses. "The policy cuts both ways, Mr. Coldwater," she said, with an artificially conciliatory tone that made him feel like an idiot for thinking otherwise. "And anyway, you shouldn't be taking focus away from your studies for an alpha you're not bonded to. They're not worth it, _trust_ me," she said, turning back and reaching to put a book on a high shelf. 

Quentin did remember hearing gossip that Sunderland was an omega, even though that would make her the most put-together and in-control omega he'd ever seen. "So, um," he said, pushing his hair behind his ear. "So if we get bonded I can have the class time off, right?" he said.

Professor Sunderland turned again, this time with a speculative look. "Yes," she said carefully. "Though I'm sure I needn't remind you it's not to be undertaken lightly. I don't take you for the class-cutting sort."

It was hard to read her tone, but Quentin was pretty sure it wasn't disappointment, she wasn't saying 'it sucks that you're the class-cutting sort.' She was saying, he was pretty sure, 'I know you're not the class-cutting sort, so you must be serious.' 

She wasn't talking about a full mating bond, obviously, because it would be insane for Brakebills to require full permanent mating out of people in their early twenties. A lot of couples didn't properly mate until they'd been together for decades and had grown children, because there was no fixing it if you mated with someone who turned out to be a problem; finding anyone who'd mated younger than 35 or so was vanishingly rare. Once an alpha bit an omega's mating gland, they were a part of each other forever.

Scent bonds were easier, though. Everyone, it seemed like, had a high school bond partner (a source of great agony for a geeky loser who was still wearing his retainer), and college was rife with them too. All that was required was to rub your scents all over each other, combining them and making sure your partner -- and anyone else in the vicinity -- could smell you on them at all times. There was still a biological aspect, but all you needed to break it was a few good showers and a couple of days to stop missing the scent. It took a week or so to taper it off gently, and those couple of days were pretty hellish if you didn't, but the path back to normal was simple.

Quentin nodded a little, answering the unspoken question. "No, you don't, um, have to remind me. I've, um, done it before, so I. I know what it...is, what it's like."

The professor took a few steps toward her desk where Quentin was still standing. "Would I be right in assuming it's Mr. Waugh you'll be spending your days with?" she asked, sliding into her chair with grace and ease. 

Quentin prickled at that for no discernible reason, shrinking back into his shoulders a little bit. "Um. Why? How did you-..."

She laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. "Quentin. The bonding policy is for your own protection. You wouldn't be the first omega in history who got drawn in by a charismatic alpha, only to be discarded once you'd served your purpose. And it does cut both ways, omegas can do that too." She put her hands down and looked up at him seriously. "But Quentin, it's different for us. You're a bright student, and I don't want to see you suffer for your biology."

Quentin felt a thunderous frown come over his face, offended both at the idea that he couldn't take care of himself, and the notion that Eliot would just use him as a place to put a knot and then throw him away. "It's not like that."

"No?" Professor Sunderland asked, crossing her arms on the desk. "Then what is it like?"

Quentin huffed, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. "We're friends. We're not, I mean. I don't think he _likes_ me that way, but we have, you know, an agreement. I help him and he helps me. And if he stops getting true rut then, like, so much the better, less class we both have to miss."

Sunderland sighed through her nose and sat back, seemingly giving up. "Well, if he agrees to bond, then yes, you get the excused absences. Scent bond, obviously, not mating."

Quentin made a face. "Do people even mate at my age?"

"Well, the gland matures at puberty. You'd be surprised, Mr. Coldwater." Unbidden, Quentin's eyes flicked down to Sunderland's throat, looking for a crescent scar. Her collar was high enough that it would be hidden if it was there. "I hope to see you in class tomorrow," she said, giving him a pointed look, then opening a drawer in her desk, a clear dismissal. Awkwardly, Quentin turned and headed for the door.

~

Eliot went back to the cottage for lunch, hoping to catch Quentin. He wasn't feeling _possessive_ , per se, he just...wanted to get little Q in his sight. Make sure he was doing okay, still willing to help and...everything. Whatever. Blah blah insert justification. Eliot was starting to feel it, his mood devolving into vague irritability. Margo's nose twitched when he approached her, and he didn't linger in her presence too long, knowing it would just annoy her, and then him as a result. Maybe he could convince Quentin to cuddle or suck his dick or something.

To that end, he was pleased when he came in and saw Quentin sitting on the couch, hunched over a book like always, sandwich balanced on his knee, because he couldn't eat off a plate like a civilized human being. It also prevented Eliot from dramatically draping himself across Quentin's lap, which was definitely a personal slight.

He settled for flopping onto the couch next to him, which didn't even make Quentin look up. Eliot nudged him, which finally got his attention.

"Oh, hey!" Quentin said, like he was surprised.

"Hey," Eliot said. "What's that?" he asked, out of social obligation, nodding to Quentin's book.

"Um, just homework." He shut it, and Eliot recognized a Nature magic textbook. "So, um, there's a hitch in the plan for tomorrow?"

Eliot arched one brow. "Oh?"

"Um, so I can't get an excused absence from class unless we're scent bonded."

Eliot went from unmoving to utterly still. "I see," he said carefully.

"Yeah. And, um, the same goes for you when I go into heat again, so I was thinking maybe we should just...do it? It doesn't have to, you know, _mean_ what it normally means, just, like, for convenience? I was also thinking about, like, I don't really want to deal with trying to like, date, so it would also help with that because then other alphas would know I'm not really looking? And plus, like, with finals so close I really don't want to have the unexcused absences, so, um. What do you think?" Quentin asked, finally looking at him.

Eliot was quiet for a minute. "Why do you not want to deal with dating?" he asked, despite that being the least important thing in there.

"Um, just like, the stress of school, I guess?" Quentin said, pushing his hair back behind his ear. "Like, at least for first year, I'm just like, if I have the option, I'd rather have, just...one steady partner where things are simple and it's okay if I don't have time for like a date night, you know? This thing we have is, it's good for now," he said, nodding. "I don't need anything else."

Eliot couldn't help smiling at him. The truth was, he wanted to. Even if Quentin was only seeing it as a platonic thing, even if it was just convenient for him...maybe Eliot could pretend. It would be an excuse, at least, an excuse to indulge all the possessiveness that Quentin triggered in him. An excuse to check on him, to keep him close, to...to chase other alphas away. To _keep_ him, for as long as Quentin would allow it.

"Okay," Eliot said cautiously. "I'm...willing. Your points are sound," he said, working to keep his voice calm and even. "How long until your next class?"

"Um?" Quentin looked around for a clock, squinting for a moment as he did the math. "A hour and ten minutes."

Eliot nodded. "Okay. Finish your sandwich and meet me in my room, okay?"

Quentin dutifully picked up his sandwich, and Eliot rose to head upstairs. Rut hadn't fully started yet, but he had a feeling Quentin was going to need those excused absences today, not just tomorrow.

Eliot made the decision that even if he didn't rut in the next few hours, the irritable mood it had him in was making him annoyed enough with life that he wasn't going to his afternoon classes, so he took off his shoes and tie and waistcoat, unbuttoning a few buttons and untucking his shirt so he just looked fetchingly disheveled for Quentin's arrival. If it had the bonus of showing his neck, offering up his scent, so much the better. For the sake of that, he rolled up his sleeves, too.

He was just sitting down and picking up his cigarettes when there was a tentative little knock on the door, and then Quentin cracked it open to peek through. He must have bolted that sandwich down so fast he barely chewed, and Eliot thought about being disapproving, but instead he just smiled and put his cigarettes down. "Hey, handsome," he said, and waved Quentin in.

Blushing, Quentin stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Eliot flipped the lock with telekinesis, and the sound-and-scent ward automatically engaged, silvery lines rippling across the wall.

"So, I want to do this," Eliot began. "But we should talk about it first. There are things we should both know."

"Okay," Quentin agreed, coming to sit on the bed, facing Eliot at his desk. "Um, yeah. Ask me anything."

"Have you bonded before?"

Quentin nodded. "Um, yeah. Twice, in college. As a freshman to this guy I took Biology with and then, um, started dating. We tapered the bond off slowly when summer came and just never picked it up. Then there was a girl in, um, junior and senior year. We were more serious, but she, uh. We didn't break up on good terms, she thought I was ignoring her and it...like, she had all these ideas, kinda, about how an omega should act, so, um. She just sort of flung a few sweaters at me to taper off myself and made me bring them back to her a few days later."

Eliot noted that both of his previous bonds had been romantic connections, he didn't make a habit of this 'platonic bond' proposal, but that was pretty much as expected. Quentin was a serial monogamist if Eliot had ever seen one, and bonds were usually romantic. "She sounds like an asshole."

"Yeah, well, uh. I mean, being kind of a bitch was part of why I liked her," Quentin said with a little laugh. "It, uh. Was for the best, anyway, we weren't...I mean, I didn't really see a future with her anyway. Trying to taper off with just...clothes was kind of hard, but it was, you know, fine."

Eliot smiled thinly. "You have no idea how much worse it can be," he said quietly.

~

Quentin had eaten his sandwich quickly and shoved his book into his bag, detouring only to put it down in his room, lest it end up kicked all over the floor again, before heading up to find Eliot. Sitting on the bed, he'd been a little glad to see Eliot put the cigarettes down -- it wasn't like Quentin objected, he smoked sometimes too, but they would cover up Eliot's scent, make it harder to smell him. Quentin didn't want that, not while he smelled so good. Rut had to be close.

He watched Eliot while he explained his own history, trying to read the emotions on his face, but he had a really good poker face. He understood why Eliot would contain his emotions right now, like, not wanting to influence his feelings about past partners or whatever. It made sense. His expression was one of placid receptiveness, so much so that Quentin would almost think he was high, if he'd had time to take anything while he'd been up here. But there was no way he could have gotten dressed down to this degree and also, like, get drugs out, take them, and then hide them again. A pill maybe, but that wouldn't kick in so fast, right?

"You have no idea how much worse it can be," Eliot said, and, uh. That was. Ominous.

"I, um. I mean, yeah, I guess. What do-" It struck Quentin like lightning, and he sat up a little straighter. "Did you..."

Eliot nodded and looked down. "I've only bonded once. High school. I'll, uh. Spare you the details," he said, which was what Eliot usually said when you were about to get told every single detail, "but it was senior year. He was a year below me, but we were both seventeen. The sex ed you get in... _Indiana_...is not the best," he said, snarling the word like a curse, and Quentin had to say he had not seen that particular revelation coming. Indiana, really? "I wasn't...even a hundred percent sure that male omegas were a thing until I met one."

Quentin raised his eyebrows. "Seriously? Not even like...in books or anything?"

Eliot shrugged. "I read about dragons in books and they weren't real. Well. As far as I knew at the time," he amended. "And it took me a while to really be able to tell scents apart, you know? I'd pretty much just figured out the difference between omegas and betas when I met Trevor."

"That was his name?" Quentin asked, and it came out much softer than he meant it. He could sort of guess at the shape of this. Bad sex ed, male omegas, Indiana, the bullying he'd told Quentin about...

Eliot nodded, looking away again. "His parents were out of town for the weekend, so I told my parents it was just a normal sleepover. My dad's a beta, but he could still smell Trevor all over me. I tried to say it was a girl, but I think I was already so scared that he could tell I was lying. He forced me into the shower, and I could hear my- my mother calling the school, saying I'd be out for the week." Quentin wondered at that hesitation over 'mother,' but didn't interrupt. "More than enough time to break the bond. I think Trevor's parents must have blown up too, because he transferred schools. I never saw him again."

Quentin could hear his own pulse in his ears. "I'm sorry."

Eliot glanced back long enough to flash him a brief smile, but couldn't seem to look at him for very long. "I just thought you should know. Before we do this. In case I get...weird. If you still want to, that is."

"Um." Quentin's hands had begun fidgeting in his lap. "Can I hug you?"

Eliot huffed out a laugh, and barely nodded, and Quentin practically flew off the bed, nearly knocking Eliot over in his chair with the force of his hug. He was in Eliot's lap, somehow, he hadn't thought about getting there he was just there, hugging him as tightly as he could.

"I'm sorry that happened," Quentin said, muffled over Eliot's shoulder. "I, um. I understand if you don't want to bond, after that, but. It's not your fault."

Eliot was tense under his arms, even as his hands came up to settle on Quentin's back, but he was relaxing by degrees. Quentin didn't know what to do, so he kept talking. "I didn't know where you were from, but, um, I'm sorry you had shitty homophobic parents and I'm sorry no one told you that you had a good future ahead, I'm sorry no one told you you could be happy, that you were _allowed_ to be happy, but you are. You are and I would never, ever break the bond suddenly like that and I wouldn't let anyone else do it either. I-"

Eliot cut him off by pulling away and kissing him, warm and chaste. Quentin sighed through his nose and kissed back, closing his eyes and leaning in. Eliot pulled back and pushed a strand of hair back behind his ear.

"I did fight, you know," Eliot said softly, looking sad. "As hard as I could. I was ready to kill my dad to get to Trevor."

"You were seventeen," Quentin said firmly. "No one could expect you to win that fight and you shouldn't expect it of yourself. But we're adults now, and no one can take me away from you. I'll fight just as hard to get back to you if they try. Okay?"

Eliot gave a sad, half-cocked smile. "Who's to say it won't be you, taking you away? Who's to say you won't get tired of me?"

"El, even if I did that, that's not a good enough reason to hurt you like that," Quentin said, trying not to be wounded that Eliot would even think that. He'd had a bond disrespected before, his _only_ bond, he had plenty of good reason to think it might happen again. That had nothing to do with Quentin. "You would have to...I honestly don't know what you would have to do to get me to do that, but it would be _way worse_ than anything I've ever actually seen you do. Okay? You can piss me off, you can hurt my feelings and let me down and I'm not going to... _abuse_ you for it." Something lit up inside Quentin, having finally found the word he'd been casting around for in his head. "You know that's what that is, right? Breaking a bond without tapering it like that, whether it's your parents or your bondmate, is abuse."

Eliot mostly looked...exhausted, and Quentin regretted going there a little bit. Maybe Eliot wasn't ready to talk like that. Maybe none of this was Quentin's place. He sighed, and continued. "I'm just...look, all I'm saying is it's not your fault, and it's not like you're damaged goods. I still want to help you, and have your help. If you don't want to do the bond it's fine, I'll just, take the unexcused absences, but-"

Eliot smiled and rolled his eyes at that, making Quentin stutter to a stop. "Don't act like it wouldn't be killing you, baby boy."

"It wouldn't be killing me!" Quentin protested, defensive. "I mean. Obviously it's _better_ not to..."

"Oh, just shut up, you sweet thing," Eliot said, and wrapped a hand around the back of Quentin's neck, scruffing him. His hand was so big, and so warm, and it made Quentin shudder, then just want to go boneless. He wasn't sure if that was biology or just... _Eliot_ , he couldn't remember being grabbed like this before. But he was acutely aware of how close Eliot's wrist was to his jaw. It was the easiest thing in the world to turn his head a little, rub the glands together, smear them all up until they mixed.

Eliot let out a shaky breath, and Quentin turned to kiss Eliot's forearm, an inch or two above where the scent glands were, close enough to smell them. "You smell like...cedar," Quentin said, dippy and lightheaded like he was drunk. "And orange peel."

The smile on Eliot's face felt like the sun coming out. "I was just thinking you smelled like oranges. It gets sweeter when you're in heat, like...orange candy. When you're mad or frustrated it smells a little like coffee."

Quentin leaned forward to kiss him, then climbed off Eliot's lap so they could do this properly. He stripped off his sweater and kicked off his shoes, nearly losing his balance as he went for his socks. Eliot's hand was there, grabbing his arm and steadying him, and Quentin looked up with a bit of a blush to see Eliot smiling at him. Quentin's eyes were drawn to his belt as he unbuckled it, always interested in that, but he tried to stay on task, looking down to undo his own jeans. He let them crumple on the floor, and his t-shirt joined them. 

Once they were both naked, Eliot bent to kiss him, then hugged him close, bending to fit their necks together like puzzle pieces. Quentin sighed and rubbed on him gently. It was always a bit of a vulnerable thing, taking someone's scent into you and leaving your own with them, but it was okay. In a way, this was better than with someone he was dating? With Jake, they'd both been first-timers, awkward and nervous. With Naomi, there was this thrill to it, this desperation to show how into her he was, how much he wanted to be hers. But here, now, with Eliot, it just felt right. Like completing a puzzle he hadn't known was left unfinished.

Quentin turned to crawl onto the bed, and Eliot followed. "What's it smell like when I'm going into rut?" Eliot asked curiously, lifting the covers to get under them.

"Mmm, it doesn't have a specific smell, so much," Quentin said, rubbing his nose into the middle of Eliot's chest, where the hair was. He could drink his fill of this scent now, anytime he wanted. "You just start smelling really good. Like everything about it gets...filtered. The parts I like get stronger and the rest gets weaker."

Eliot giggled, lifting his arm so Quentin could tuck his shoulder up under it, get at the glands there. "Wow, so you're just a rut-slut."

Quentin rolled his eyes and rolled onto his back, spreading his legs to let a grinning Eliot reach the glands on his inner thighs. "I could go back to class, you know, when we're done here."

They both knew he wasn't going to do that. The rut-scent was only getting stronger, and he could feel his body responding, not a full heat like the full rut Eliot would get if they were reversed, but maybe enough that he could get wet.

Eliot let out a tortured sound as he rubbed his face between Quentin's legs, not going for his dick deliberately or anything, but getting his neck glands up into the ones in Quentin's groin. "I think it's starting pretty soon," he said. "I'm not aching yet, but I can feel it."

Quentin nodded. "You smell like it," he agreed. "Should we stop and do some prep? Are you gonna have lulls long enough for me to get supplies and stuff?"

"We should be all right," Eliot said. "A couple of betas owe me favors if not." He crawled up and slotted together so they were scenting each others' necks again. All they had to do now was stay together for a couple of hours, their scents were pretty well mixed, they were only scenting each other for the pleasure of it now.

"Are you just saying that because you don't want to let me up?" Quentin asked, eyelashes fluttering as Eliot laid down on top of him, pinning him down with his weight. 

"Do you want to be let up enough that it matters?" Eliot asked, nipping at the side of his neck.

Quentin made a soft noise, feeling his dick taking interest in the proceedings. Eliot could feel it too, or smell it, or something, because he pushed his hips down against Quentin's, rubbing them together.

"What's it smell like when I get horny?" Quentin asked, curious.

Eliot lifted his head, cutting his eyes to the side as he thought about that for a moment. "Like...chocolate, almost," Eliot said, and buried his nose against Quentin's jaw, nuzzling in and getting a noseful of him. "Mmm, yeah. Like really expensive chocolate."

"You can smell how much chocolate costs?"

He didn't have to see it to know that Eliot was rolling his eyes. "I'm doing my best, you brat."

Quentin laughed, and Eliot rubbed them together again, but Quentin reached down to put a hand on Eliot's hip, stilling him. "We really should rest for a while," he said. "Until it starts. I don't know if I'll get wet, but, you have lube, right?"

Eliot sighed, nodded, and flopped off to the side. He propped himself up on one elbow and drew his fingers over Quentin's stomach, the same protection charm he'd done their first time. "I know sympathy heat usually won't get you fertile, but, better safe than sorry," Eliot said.

"Agreed," Quentin said, nodding. "That's kinda the last thing I need right now."

Eliot chuckled, laying down with him and tugging the blankets up to cover them. It felt indulgent, decadent, to be lounging in bed in the middle of the day. "I'm sure it wouldn't be the first accidental fetus Lipson's had to deal with. I mean...deal with as in either prenatal care or, you know."

"Yeah, I get it," Quentin said, although he suspected Eliot had meant abortion, and was backpedaling. It stung a little, which was completely absurd, because Quentin was absolutely not going to have a baby anytime soon. He could kind of picture Eliot's pup, though, and it was...he wasn't sure he could put into words what it was, other than hilariously inadequate things like 'nice' or 'sweet'. "Still, better not to worry about it," he said, instead of any of that.

Eliot nodded and snuggled up to Quentin's side, an arm over his chest and leg tossed over his. Eliot's back was to the door, putting himself between Quentin and whoever might enter. Quentin hesitated a moment, then took the hand across his chest and tugged it up, over his shoulder, around his neck, until Eliot got the idea and scruffed him again.

Quentin sighed, feeling himself go liquid again, and rubbed his jaw into Eliot's wrist, closing his eyes. He didn't care if this was biological or not. Whatever it was, it felt amazing.

~

Eliot managed a small nap. It was easy, with a sweet, boneless omega laying in his arms, Quentin's relaxation making it natural for him to rest.

 _Mine._ Eliot looked over his sleeping face. He could say that now, think it, _my_ omega, no scare quotes or rush to correct himself. Even if this wasn't...what Eliot wanted it to be, even if it wasn't anything, really. Even if it was just convenience and a nerd's desire to keep his grades up.

He wanted to let Quentin sleep, but he was feeling it, the telltale ache. He slid a hand down and squeezed the knot to ease it a little bit. He supposed he could grab the knot-ring and jerk off until Quentin woke on his own, but he suspected Quentin would be put out if Eliot started the party without him.

"Q," he murmured, pressing his lips to the side of his head and kissing him there. "Wake up, sweetheart."

Quentin mumbled grumpily and rolled over, eyes still closed. 

"Quentin," Eliot said, a little louder. "Baby, it's time."

He lifted his head this time, inhaling and squinting in Eliot's direction. He nodded, then dropped his head back again with a yawn.

Normally Eliot would give him five minutes to hatch, but he didn't want to sit like this for five minutes, so he reached over for the lube, getting up on his knees and up between Quentin's legs. Quentin spread them for him and shifted his hips down a little, which Eliot was taking as consent. It was an offer, and Eliot really couldn't wait very long. 

He slicked his fingers with the lube and pushed them inside, knowing Quentin would probably get enough of a contact high off the rut pheromones to be fine, but wanting to be careful. Quentin sighed, head lolling against the pillow as Eliot made quick work of it, then tossed the lube aside.

Eliot let out a shuddering sigh as he pushed inside, Quentin's legs up around his waist. He laid his head on Q's chest and just panted for a moment, letting his body and brain work out the feeling of finally being where he needed to be: inside Quentin. He felt Quentin's strong fingers stroking his hair, petting through the curls.

Slow and easy, Eliot started to move, not really wanting to blow all his energy on round one. Not that he was going to tire all that easily in rut, but still. Everything inside him just felt kind of restless and weird, so he was making himself be chill. Though he did have to note this was markedly better than it would be if he were alone. At least now he had a focus, he knew what to do, there was no drive to go find a proper omega and breed them because he was _here_ , the perfect omega. His.

Quentin made that beautiful little shocked noise as the knot started to catch, and Eliot just pushed all the way in and stayed there, letting the heat and twitching of Quentin's muscles get him the rest of the way over the edge. He groaned softly as he felt the knot swell and be squeezed tight.

"Feel good?" he murmured, and Quentin mumbled back something mostly unintelligible, but that seemed positive. "Good," Eliot rumbled, hands rubbing up and down his sides as he laid on Quentin's chest, listening to his heart. Quentin did seem to be waking up, more than he was falling back to sleep. Strong, pretty hands rubbed along Eliot's back, making him purr. 

Quentin pulled one of Eliot's hands up again, and Eliot smiled as he wrapped it around the back of Quentin's neck again. "You really love that, huh?" he asked.

"Feels good," Quentin said. "And I can..." He rubbed his jaw into Eliot's wrist again, making Eliot hum happily. "Hey, but, um, there's something I want to try? On, like, the next wave?"

"Sure," Eliot said, propping his chin up on Quentin's chest to look at him. He wouldn't be this coherent the whole time, but might as well use the time while he was. "Hit me."

Quentin licked his lips, then pressed them together. "Um." He closed his eyes and rubbed into Eliot's wrist again, and the nervousness was cute.

"Baby," he said softly. "You can ask me for anything. The worst I can say is no."

Quentin huffed. "That is _not_ the worst you can say," he said, squirming a little, squeezing the knot and making Eliot hiss. "Sorry. The worst you could say is no, and also get out, and also you're a freak, and also I'm telling everyone what a freak you are."

Eliot felt his heart softening. "Okay, well, I promise I'm not going to do that," Eliot said softly. "You're asking instead of just forcing or springing it on me, so I'm not going to kick you out. I swear that I will, at most, decline to participate."

Quentin just sighed at him, frowning in consternation. "How the fuck are you so articulate in the middle of rut?" he asked, then shook his head. "Anyway. Um. I kind of want to try it...in my mouth?"

Eliot frowned at that, considering it. It wasn't like he'd mind, and Q's oral fixation wasn't news to him at this point. "Can you _breathe_?"

"Um, I think so, yeah. If I like, push on it with my tongue? I can keep it from going down my throat. I mean, you might feel my teeth a little. And, um, if I can't, I mean, I _can_ get off the knot. It might hurt me or you, but, you know, there's healing for that. It's not made of iron."

Eliot winced. "Have you ever gotten untied in the middle? It sucks for both of us."

"Yeah," Quentin agreed, and licked his lips again. "But think about if it _works_ , El." His voice dropped a few notes and his arousal was obvious, even if Eliot hadn't felt his dick twitch between them.

"Q, I don't know if you've noticed this, but my dick is big," Eliot said delicately. "I'm seriously skeptical you can keep it from going down your throat."

"Yeah, but it gets shorter when the knot swells," Quentin said. "Not, like, a _lot_ , but a little. Enough."

"How can you possibly know that? This is the second time you've seen me knot."

"Um, every alpha's does?" Quentin managed to shrug while laying on his back with Eliot on his chest. "I thought everyone knew that. It's just physics, it's like, um, an accordion effect. Except, you know, your knot is going out instead of folding."

Eliot was skeptical of this logic. "Okay, even if I believe you, which I'm not sure of, I don't believe there's enough of an effect to keep it out of your throat."

"You're still not saying no," Quentin pointed out.

"No," Eliot agreed, laying his head down again. "I'm interested in trying, if we can do it safely." Quentin let out a shaky breath, and Eliot couldn't help laughing. "You're so cute," he said. "I have an idea, maybe. There's a spell that can help."

"Hmm. Boring," Quentin said.

Eliot laughed again. "We'll try the hard version later if you want it that bad, you little slut. I'd just like for there to be a fallback so you don't actually die on my dick." 

Quentin heaved a hilariously put-upon sigh. "That's fair, I guess."

As if on cue, Eliot slipped out as the knot deflated enough. Quentin made a little sad noise, and Eliot rolled off, laying on his side again and running a hand down Quentin's chest. "Want me to get you off, baby boy?"

Quentin shook his head. "Wanna save it for the next one."

Eliot kissed the side of his head. "Good boy."

~

The next one came pretty quickly, and Eliot was still pretty coherent, so Quentin got on top this time. He was definitely wet without any lube now, unable to help moaning as he slid down on it, feeling it stretch him open. Eliot had his forearm over his eyes like it was too much as Quentin planted his hands on Eliot's stomach and started to move himself, rolling his hips in a way that felt amazing, leaning back a little to get Eliot as deep as possible.

"God, you feel so good," Quentin moaned. "El, you feel so good inside me, _fuck_..."

"Play with yourself, pretty boy," Eliot rumbled, taking his arm away. "I want to watch you."

Quentin exhaled and wrapped a hand around his cock, stroking loosely. "I don't wanna come yet," he murmured. "Wanna come on the knot, it stretches me so fucking good, god, _Eliot_..."

"I love how you say my name," Eliot purred. "All needy, like you can't get enough of me. I can't get enough of you either, baby boy," he said, sliding his hands up Quentin's thighs, teasingly close to his dick but not going for it. "I know you don't know it, but you're so fucking hot, Quentin. You have no idea. Just looking at you, fuck, I'm trying not to knot yet."

"Do it," Quentin said, quick and eager. "Do it, please knot me, it feels so good- ah!"

Quentin cried out as the knot started catching, tugging on his hole as he moved past it. He kept riding, moaning at the extra stretch of the swelling knot, until the last second, a thrust where it was hard to take it in again, just butting up against it. Quentin took a breath, spread himself with his hands, and put his weight down on it.

The knot squeezed in with a satisfying pop, and Eliot groaned as he finally got the good pressure he needed. Quentin watched Eliot grit his teeth, hips twitching up against Quentin's ass, then relax.

"God, the way you take a knot," Eliot sighed, shaking his head. He was laying back on the pillow, eyes closed. "It's like you were made for me, sweetheart. You're so good."

Quentin whimpered, tugging a little against the knot just to feel it pull, to make himself feel good. The stretch inside was already lighting him up, and Quentin tried grinding down on it instead, gasping at the feelings he got from that. 

Eliot put his hands behind his head, watching Quentin with satisfaction. "Go ahead, baby boy," he said softly. "Play with my knot as much as you want. Make yourself feel good, I want to watch."

Quentin sighed and jerked himself off again, but it wasn't anywhere near as good as the knot felt, so he dropped it. He pressed a hand against his stomach, curious if he could actually feel Eliot inside him, but there was nothing obvious. Eliot laughed softly at him, and Quentin stubbornly ignored it. 

"What, you don't know how to make yourself come, all of a sudden?" Eliot asked, bumping his hips up and making Quentin's breath hitch. "You've never seemed to have a problem before."

"Yeah, but." Quentin swallowed hard, grabbing one of Eliot's hands to get his wrist closer. "But you smell so good. And you're like, _watching_."

Eliot's expression softened. "You don't have to put on a show for me, baby boy. Just make yourself feel good. That's the hottest thing you could do right now."

Quentin huffed, not sure if that was true, but he nodded. He might as well take Eliot at his word. Trust him, and give him a chance to earn it. He shut his eyes and tucked his chin down against his chest, letting his mind drift.

He hadn't really noticed that he was tensing up, trying to _perform_ , until Eliot pointed it out, but he was having trouble letting go of it now. He cracked one eye open to look up at Eliot again, who gave him a little smile.

"It felt good when you pushed down on it, didn't it?" Eliot asked, bringing his hands down to rub them reassuringly over Quentin's thighs. "Why don't you do that for me?"

Quentin did, and it sent these shivery shocks of pleasure all through his body. He made a desperate noise and did it harder, moving his hips in a circle.

"That's it, baby," Eliot purred. "That feels so good, doesn't it? I bet it does. Gonna come for me, baby boy?" Quentin whimpered and nodded, focusing on it as he ground against the knot. "God, it's incredible how hot you are. You don't even know it, do you? Mmm, fuck, you're making me feel so good. Come on, sweetheart, come for me, make yourself come on Daddy's knot."

Quentin hadn't thought he was close, but almost immediately, Eliot's words had him crying out and clenching, throwing his head back as he came, shaking through it as his cock painted stripes up Eliot's stomach and chest. He only just caught himself on his hands as it passed, not wanting to collapse in the mess.

"Hang on, here," Eliot murmured, and did a tut that cleared away the mess. "Okay, it's okay baby, relax for me, lay down, there you go." Eliot guided Quentin to lay down on his chest, gently talking him through it. Quentin shivered at how it made the knot pull a little, being at an angle like this, but Eliot was stroking his hair, and that seemed much more important.

"That sounded so good, baby, wasn't it?" Eliot purred, and Quentin nodded, shivering. Eliot hummed above him, still stroking his hair, and Quentin sighed happily. It felt so nice to be petted like this. "Yeah, you're definitely in false heat, baby," Eliot said with a chuckle.

"Oh," Quentin said softly. Yeah, that made sense, didn't it? He wouldn't normally be this dreamy after coming, would he? There was nothing wrong with that, he was pretty sure it wasn't a problem. He was here with his alpha, after all, so it must be fine. "Okay," he said softly, and closed his eyes.

"Good boy, just rest," Eliot encouraged. Quentin let himself relax and go liquid like he wanted to. "That's it. The knot will be out soon and you'll feel better, okay?"

Quentin made a little sad noise at the idea of losing the knot, but if Eliot said it was good, then it probably was.

~

"Okay, so what's this special secret spell?" Quentin asked. "And why do we have to be in the bath?"

Quentin had recovered from the heat-orgasm after being unknotted and a few minutes of cuddling, and was now in the tub. He was sitting back on his haunches between Eliot's legs, hands on Eliot's knees, the water just covering his hips now, lapping up toward his waist. Eliot, of course, had a magically expanded bathtub. Looking at it from the outside, it was old and clawfooted and small, but the inside was big enough for two. Or, as Eliot had said, for one very long boy with a little room to spare. The tub was taking a while to fill, but that was probably preferable to being cramped as hell.

"Hmmm," Eliot said, skimming a hand across the surface. "I think the water's high enough now. Come suck Daddy's cock, and I'll show you," he said, reaching out toward Quentin's neck to guide him.

Quentin rolled his eyes at 'daddy' but didn't object aloud, figuring it was probably harder for Eliot to handle and contain his kinks while in rut. He'd never said it outside of rut, after all, and now he'd said it two or three times while in it, so probably it wasn't nice or necessary to harp on it. "Under the water?" Quentin asked.

Eliot nodded, so Quentin shrugged and came down, laying out between Eliot's legs as he'd done several times before. He fit his arms up over Eliot's hips to support himself, be able to push up out of the water if he needed, and took a breath in before dipping below the surface. Eliot's hand rubbed his neck reassuringly as Quentin fitted his mouth over the head. The hand moved away, and he saw the telltale shimmer of magic going above him, then felt it moving through his body, and his collarbones felt...weird?

Quentin started to lift up out of the water, but Eliot stopped him before he was all the way up, hands keeping his shoulders submerged.

"Stay down," Eliot said. "They'll sting if you get them out of the water."

"What will?" Quentin tried to crane his neck to see, then gave up and felt at it with his fingers. The hollows of his collarbones had...a texture, and touching them was unpleasant, but...

"Did you give me _gills_?"

Eliot nodded, looking proud of himself. "I can end the spell if you don't like it. But it's safe to have your throat blocked if your throat isn't what's breathing."

Eliot had warned him about the sting, but Quentin lifted one shoulder anyway, bringing the gill on that side into the air. It was cold and yeah, stung a little, like it was raw, making him hiss, but it was good to know what he was dealing with.

"You can never just listen," Eliot said, shaking his head fondly as Quentin lowered himself back into the water. "Always have to go touch the hot stove."

"I just wanted to know," Quentin said, feeling defensive. "Do you wanna knot in my mouth or what?"

Eliot just laughed and curled his hand over the back of Quentin's neck again, pulling him down. Quentin took it in again, swallowing it down. There was definitely still that feeling of having his throat blocked, the _sense_ that he couldn't breathe, but he just...inhaled anyway. That seemed to be all there really was to it; the gills took over. He tested a couple of deep breaths, making sure this was working the way it was supposed to before they were, like, committed. It seemed safe, so he pulled back to give some attention to the head, sucking it properly now.

Eliot was saying something above the water, but Quentin couldn't hear him, not with the faucet still pouring in and the rush of water as Quentin bobbed his head. Probably it didn't matter. The strong hand on his neck would pull him up if Eliot had something important to say. 

The faucet turned off after another minute, Eliot deeming the tub full enough, apparently, and Quentin could hear him now, muffled and faint, but intelligible. "-so nice, baby boy, don't stop."

Quentin wasn't planning to, but the praise still made him feel good. The water added an interesting novelty to the situation, and it was nice to be able to swallow him down and still breathe. He was going to have to get used to the sensation, anyway.

After a minute, a hand tangled in his hair and pulled him out of the water, the level of which was definitely higher than it had been, which was a touch disorienting. "I'm close," Eliot said, breathless. "Still want it?"

Quentin tried to go back to it, because yes, but Eliot was holding him firm. He only succeeded in pulling his own hair. "El, come on."

"Say it," Eliot said, eyes intense, and _oh_. They were doing _that_. "Tell me what you want."

Quentin licked his lips and swallowed, but spoke, even though he could feel the tingle of a blush. "Knot my mouth. Please, El."

"Again."

" _Eliot_ ," Quentin protested, but it came out more like a needy moan. "Please come down my throat and knot my mouth, tie behind my teeth, come on, please..."

Eliot pushed him back under the water and right down onto the dick. Quentin could feel the knot starting to bulge as he slid up and down it with enthusiasm, down his throat and back up again. At the last minute, he took it all the way down, hearing Eliot's groan above him as the knot swelled, forcing his tongue down and his jaw open.

For a second, Quentin worried that this was all going to be for nothing, that he was going to have to pull off for fear of breaking or dislocating his jaw. But the knot settled, and Quentin was okay. His jaw was going to ache like hell, but he was fine. An ache would heal. He took a deep breath through the gills, reassuring himself that he could, and he reflected that he was never going to be able to think of using this spell for anything else.

"You good?" Eliot asked above him, breathless and just audible through the water. Quentin reached one arm up at an awkward angle to give a thumbs-up above the surface.

Eliot took his hand and kissed his knuckles, then let it rest back down under the water. Eliot other hand found his, so they were being held by his hips. "Can you hear me pretty well? Squeeze my hand for yes."

Quentin squeezed, and he felt more than heard the rumbly sound of pleasure Eliot made. "Good. Good boy. Does it feel good?"

Quentin squeezed harder, making Eliot laugh. His own cock was almost painfully hard, finally fulfilling a fantasy he'd pretty much had since, if not the first time he'd gone into heat as a teenager, then at least since the first time he'd sucked a dick. 

Quentin shivered as he felt fingers walking down his back, then realized with confusion that Eliot was still holding his hands. A moment later, he remembered: telekinesis, and he would have moaned if his vocal cords were available right now. 

"Don't worry, baby," Eliot purred, misinterpreting Quentin's tension entirely. "I've done this before." The phantom fingers were heading boldly toward his ass, right down over his lower back. They detoured to pinch one cheek, then came questing between.

"Ooh, you're wet for me," Eliot said, magic rubbing against his hole. Quentin arched his hips back, begging silently for the ersatz fingers to get inside him. "So greedy." Quentin could hear him grinning. "Hmm, no, you wanted to be down there. I think that's all you get for now." The fingers vanished.

Quentin squeezed both hands hard enough to grind bones together in protest, but it just made Eliot laugh again. "Complain all you want. Can't do much about it for the next eleven minutes, can you?"

Quentin squeezed again, trying to make it feel desperate and pleading, and Eliot just hummed. "You're not in sympathy heat now, I don't think, you're just really fucking horny, but I didn't think you would be. You will be again, though. When we're done here we'll clean up a little bit, since we've got the bath full, and then I'm gonna take you back to bed, baby boy. True rut's not like heat, you know, it starts out easier and then crescendos. I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good when it peaks. I'm gonna make you come so fucking hard on my knot."

Quentin would have whimpered if he could, every word like a lightning bolt to his dick. He pulled at his hands, trying to get Eliot to release them, but he was held tight.

"No," Eliot said, an edge of sharpness to his tone. "You get your hands back when I say you do. You get more when _I_ say. You're mine for the next day. _Mine_ ," he growled, voice dropping so deep Quentin could feel it in his toes.

Eliot was quiet after that, holding him tight, and Quentin stopped trying to fight it. Slowly, the knot shrank, and after awhile Quentin was just holding a soft dick in his mouth. Not unpleasant, but not the point of this.

Still, he gave a questioning little squeeze before trying to do anything. Eliot chuckled. "I suppose you can come up now. Ending the spell in 3...2..."

He let go of Quentin's hands and did a quick tut just as his head broke the surface. Quentin got his first lungful of air in awhile and found it...passable. Breathing warm water had felt nice, after awhile. The air was cold and thin, kind of anemic after that.

Telekinesis pulled the plug out of the bottom, and Eliot pulled Quentin in for a kiss. Quentin's jaw was kinda too tired to do anything about it, but it was distracting enough that he didn't notice the hand reaching for his dick until it was there, finding it soft. Eliot pulled back to give him a questioning look.

"Um." Quentin blushed. "I think I, um. Came when you said I was yours?"

Eliot's jaw actually dropped, quickly transmuting into a look of smugness. "You came from getting your mouth knotted."

Quentin's blush deepened. "Alpha voice does things to omegas, you know that!"

"Uh huh. You know what, baby boy? That's so fucking hot that you're not even in trouble for coming without permission," he said, leaning in for another kiss. "But you will be," he said, rumbling deep against Quentin's lips, "if you do it again. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Quentin breathed, knowing that how wet he was had nothing to do with water.

~

Eliot really hadn't been kidding about rut peaking somewhere in the middle, or about bringing on sympathy heat. Quentin was dimly aware of being fucked on his back, then on hands and knees, then bent over the bed, then on hands and knees again. Quentin had been with alphas before, but never for a true rut -- Jake preferred to spend them alone, and Naomi was fresh enough out of a relationship with another omega that she didn't have them. He was sure he'd known sympathy heat would be a thing, from health class if nothing else, but he'd had no idea how little it would feel like true heat. 

Later, it would be a good source of scientific curiosity. Why exactly were they so different, what purpose did it serve? For now, though, in the room with Eliot in full rut, fierce and commanding, he couldn't think about much of anything except him. Quentin felt dreamy and disconnected, like they were still in the bath and everything in the world was being filtered through a foot or so of water first, except Eliot. Eliot was in clear, sharp focus at all times, every whispered word of praise and filthy, growled question engraved on the inside of his skull.

After a few hours -- several hours, really, like almost ten -- finally they got a break long enough for Quentin to fall asleep with Eliot wrapped around him. His body was willing to draw on reserves, knowing what an alpha in rut meant even if the sympathetic heat faded in and out. It took Quentin a minute to figure out what had woken him, squinting around for a clock. He wasn't sure if he'd even see it in the dark.

Pretty soon, though, he realized Eliot was sniffing at his neck, nuzzling into him while not even fully awake himself. Quentin could already feel himself opening up, getting wet with need. He could smell rut on Eliot again, powerful and intoxicating, making him shiver. He wiggled over onto his back, spreading his legs as Eliot moved naturally over him, still buried against his neck.

"Smell so good," Eliot rumbled, and Quentin wrapped his arms up around Eliot's shoulders, tilting his head back to expose his scent more. "Wann'fuck you."

"I'm ready," Quentin whispered, angling his knees back toward his chest, tilting his hips up. "I'm ready for you."

Eliot growled, his cock sliding against Quentin's as he thrust into nothing. Quentin shifted, though, and Eliot moved, and the next thrust buried him inside Quentin, making him gasp and his legs shake with need. It was a stretch, even sympathy heat didn't always make it easy to take Eliot's stupidly big dick, but it only hurt a little, not enough to feel like he was being injured. Not enough that it was anything other than _perfect_.

"Feels good," he told Eliot in a gasp, who just growled, starting to thrust. He was clearly full of shit, alpha growls were _absolutely_ a thing, because there was no other explanation for the thrill that sound sent down Quentin's spine. 

"Eliot," he whimpered, getting another growl for his trouble as Eliot thrust against him. His thrusts were short and sharp, staying buried deep inside Quentin and pushing against the meat of his ass. Quentin arched his head back and panted like he couldn't get enough air, like Eliot was sucking it right out of him. That was how it felt, that was how hard he was, the friction on his cock where they were pressed together knocking the wind out of him.

Still sleep-heavy and relaxed, Quentin whimpered and shuddered as orgasm hit him, clenching around Eliot hard. Eliot made a muffled sound and pushed deep, knotting him with a low, satisfied sound.

"Smell good," Eliot murmured again, still snuffling against Quentin's neck. "Smell happy."

"You just made me come and knotted me," Quentin murmured back, stroking his hair. "So I am."

Eliot hummed his satisfaction and seemed to settle, laying on his chest. The knot felt good, too distractingly good for Quentin to fall asleep, but if not for that, he probably could have with the pressure of Eliot on his chest. He just petted Eliot's hair and let himself sink into the feeling, the _rightness_ of it. Normal sex was good and all, but there was a...a _depth_ to heat sex. 

It felt a little weird to think about in that way. Maybe he was just being a gross heat fetishist. That was the only kind of person he'd heard express such feelings before. It felt like, culturally, heat sex was just supposed to be this...inconvenience. A thing you dealt with. And it wasn't like Quentin necessarily looked forward to heat, to losing half a week to stupid biological urges.

But the way it felt, to have someone with him through heat? He remembered that feeling. That, he was looking forward to.

~

"I think this'll be the last one," Eliot said, rolling Quentin over just after noon. He looked haggard with exhaustion, his hair limp and his eyes sunken, but he still had a satisfied smile on his face as Quentin rolled.

"Better make it good, then," Quentin said, spreading his legs and propping himself up a little, too tired to really get his ass in the air. "If we just sleep three or four hours we should be able to go to bed at bedtime and get up in the morning."

"Mmm," Eliot said, scenting at Quentin's inner thighs, rubbing his neck and jaw into the glands there, smearing them together good and thoroughly. "Or we could just fuck off from classes, since it'll be Friday anyway and there's no point."

"Or we should _go_ , because it's just one day and then we have the weekend," Quentin countered, shivering and laying his head down as Eliot spread his cheeks open.

"Nerd," he accused, then dragged his tongue across Quentin's hole, making him shudder and arch. "You taste so good," he murmured, voice starting to drop into that alpha rumble, like distant thunder. "God, you're so wet for me, baby. Have I mentioned that I love how wet you get? It's like you can't fucking wait to get me inside you." 

He buried his tongue fully in Quentin's hole, making it hard to talk. "I c-can't," he managed, gasping as Eliot's tongue curled inside him. "I can't wait, I just want you...to fuck me and knot me so bad, all the time...you, do you have any _fucking_ idea how good your knot makes me feel, how hot it is to let you tie me?"

Eliot hummed, giving him one last lick and then sliding upwards, his chest brushing Quentin's back. "You know, most boys like a good ass fuck," he murmured in Quentin's ear, low and intimate. He started to press himself inside, groaning softly as it made Quentin whimper. "But baby boy, you _love_ it. In or out of heat. You're so happy to take my cock, anytime I want to give it to you. Do you have any idea how fucking hot that is? To think that anytime I'm not fucking you, you're just waiting for my cock again?"

"I am," Quentin moaned, shuddering as Eliot fucked him _deep_. "I, you make me feel so fucking good, I can't get enough, _Eliot_ ," he moaned. He was sore from being fucked and knotted so much, the drag of Eliot's cock waking up those nerve endings along with all the pleasure ones, but all it did was make him feel even better.

"I love how needy you are," Eliot growled against his ear, lighting Quentin's whole body up. "Have I told you that? I love how much you want me to fuck you. I want to fuck you just as much, baby boy. You're addictive as hell, you know that?"

Quentin didn't recognize it at first, but he could smell a sharp, acrid spike of anxiety in Eliot's scent. He didn't know what could be causing that, but he brought a hand back and threaded it into Eliot's hair. Almost immediately it soothed away, leaving only the smell of a rutting alpha. Eliot was kissing over the side of his neck so fervently that the spike was forgotten quickly, focusing on the pain and pleasure of Eliot inside him.

The first catch of the knot against his hole pushed Quentin over, crying out as shook under Eliot, the orgasm soul-deep and satisfying, like he could coast on it for a week. Eliot gave a few more thrusts and then buried himself with a groan. The knot swelling chased aftershocks out of Quentin, who shivered one last time and went slack, sighing. Eliot gave a pleased growl and kept kissing at his neck.

"Hey, are you okay?" Quentin asked a few minutes later, once they were both pretty relaxed and just waiting it out.

"Mmm, I'm great. Why?"

"I dunno, you just, uh. Smelled like you got scared for a minute?"

At any other time, he wouldn't have noticed Eliot tensing behind him, but right now they were pressed together from shoulder to ankle, and he almost couldn't help it. Eliot was quiet for a moment, and Quentin waited.

"Just dumb alpha shit," he said finally. "Sometimes when I...think about it too hard, my alpha brain kinda gets weird about it, like. 'He's hot so obviously someone is going to steal him.' Even though you're perfectly free to fuck whoever you want, the biology gets wild, you know?"

Quentin didn't know if he believed Eliot, for the sole reason that it had taken him so long to answer for a resolution he seemed so cavalier about. But he was exhausted, and had Eliot's knot up his hole, and it didn't really seem like the time to discuss it. 

"Fair enough," he just said, laying his head back down on the pillow with a sigh. "Definitely need that nap, once it's out."

"Soon, baby boy," Eliot said, kissing the back of his head. "Soon."

~

Quentin had Sunderland's class on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so he had to go out of his way to go to her classroom. He'd just been to the clinic, where he'd lied and said he was going to her class next, so he could take the note with him. 

There was no real _reason_ to do this. If anything, he was just, like, antagonizing a professor totally unnecessarily. Juvenile, really. But the conversation he'd had with Sunderland was stuck in his craw. Maybe it was a biological thing, wanting another omega to know that his alpha took good care of him. Maybe he was just really annoyed about everyone thinking of Eliot as this asshole who just had parties and used guys for their bodies, when he was so obviously, like, this really deep and sensitive person who'd just been hurt enough times to believe that armor was a better option.

Frankly, Quentin didn't disagree. He'd just never been any good at building armor.

"Quentin," she said as he approached her desk, tone artificially light, but disapproving. "We missed you in class yesterday."

Without a word, Quentin slapped the form down on Sunderland's desk. His and Eliot's names were at the top, followed by various notes of where they lived and any known incidents. It was blank, for now, but if Eliot ever got snappy with another alpha over him or something, it would go there. Nothing especially invasive, just what staff might need to know in dealing with them, if for some reason they needed to be dealt with. Lipson's signature was at the bottom.

Professor Sunderland looked down at it without showing any emotion, then up at Quentin. "Thank you, Mr. Coldwater," she said, tone even. "Your absence is excused."

Of course, she wasn't even going to give him the...satisfaction of revealing anything. Quentin just shook his head as he turned away, suddenly desperate to go find and sniff his not-boyfriend.


	3. you figured me out, i'm a child and i'm hopeless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always to redtoblack and punkfistfights for beta-ing! tbh this might be my favorite chapter in terms of like, being the platonic ideal of omegaverse fiction, so enjoy!

It was winter at Brakebills, and the grounds were just as much of a fucking picturesque Christmassy winter wonderland as one would expect for a goddamn magic school. None of the scrubby cold dirt the rest of upstate New York was struggling through; no, there was always at least enough snow on the ground to make it pretty, but the sidewalks were kept magically dry and ice-free. The bare trees just seemed stately and patient, rather than pathetic and scraggly. Even the buildings were never as cold and drafty as school buildings rightly ought to be in winter, no, everything was impeccably warmed by fires that were always somehow jolly and welcoming, never oppressively hot or burning you with embers when you paused nearby.

Eliot hated winter. Indiana had cold, shitty winters, and he'd never loved it, but it didn't help that the entire Trevor thing had happened over the course of a winter. 

Still. Things were different now. He was bonded again to one of the gentlest and bravest people he knew. And as miserly and shitty as Eliot was feeling about the season, his partner's next heat was coming soon. Their first together, not counting Eliot's rut -- true rut and false rut were reasonably similar, but true heat and false heat were very different. Eliot could smell it on him, and it was making him growlier than usual. Seeing another alpha near Quentin set his hackles up. See, the other way to break a scent bond was to re-scent someone yourself. It took longer, more like a day than the few hours of a clean bond, but poaching omegas was totally possible.

No one was _going_ to, obviously. It was barbaric and sexist. It was no more possible to poach an omega than it was to steal a girlfriend; if she goes with that other guy, it was a choice she made for a reason, and Eliot was quite confident Quentin was not looking to be poached. If he was, they didn't have to make the bond in the first place. It wasn't like it was the logical next step after dating awhile, it was just an arrangement. Quentin wouldn't have made it if he wanted a different one.

Still.

Eliot went and knocked on Quentin's door after classes. "Q?"

Footsteps, then Quentin opened the door. Eliot smiled softly down at him. "Hey, sweetheart." Smelling the change in Quentin's scent was making him a little freer with the pet names. "Just wanted to check on you. How are you?"

"Um, I dunno." Quentin shrugged. "Normal."

"You're about due for a heat," Eliot pointed out. "And your scent's changing, so I think it's coming soon."

Quentin looked into the middle distance for a moment. "Oh, shit," he said, eyes widening. "Uh, you're right. I've been...I dunno, I can't get warm. I figured it was just the dead of winter, but..."

Eliot nodded. "Classic heat symptom. Do you want one of my blankets or a sweater? I don't exactly have a cache of hoodies to give you."

Quentin looked him over speculatively. "Now _that_ , I would like to see."

"Too bad!" Eliot said, giving him a cheerful smile.

Quentin smiled back, but he was reaching out for Eliot's hand. "Um, can you just..."

Eliot knew well by now what he was asking for and brought his hand up, giving the back of Quentin's neck a firm squeeze. He'd been right; his thumb did fit perfectly behind Quentin's ear. Quentin turned into his arm a little, inhaling, then stepped closer, nosing up under Eliot's jaw.

"That's right, baby boy," Eliot murmured, quiet so no one passing by might hear, aware that they were in a public hallway. "You get your fill. I'm here, and I'll be here when it starts." There was a kind of relaxed, pleasurable contentment gained from letting his omega scent him. A soft, happy thing curling in his chest that knew his place was by Quentin's side. "How long do you think we have, baby?"

"Um...few hours, probably." Quentin was nuzzling into his neck, leaning into Eliot's chest. "I didn't notice until now, but, um. Yeah, I've been feeling it for a couple of days."

Eliot buried his nose against Quentin's hair and inhaled again. "Yeah, you're definitely, mm. Sweeter. Want me to check in later, or do you want to come find me?"

"Um." Quentin seemed to be distracted sniffing at Eliot. 

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do," Eliot said, voice dropping into the rumble that would get Quentin's attention. "We're gonna go downstairs and have one last real meal. Then we're gonna come back up here, and you can make us a nest in your bed, or the closet, anywhere you think best. I'll write the note to Administration that we're taking our absences. Then we can study or read or whatever you want until it hits. Okay?"

Quentin nodded, sniffing him again. "Okay," he said, voice soft in a way that made Eliot melt. Yeah, biology was definitely about to be getting in the way of shit.

"Here," Eliot said, reaching up to his tie. He had to pause to take out the pin, but he took it off and looped the loosened tie over Quentin's head. "Nice and fresh," he said, grinning as he pulled away.

"You're gross," Quentin said, but he had that bashful smile, and he lifted the tie up to sniff at it. It had been tucked under his waistcoat all day, as was only proper, so presumably the whole thing had his scent on it, but Quentin was going straight for the neck. He was unbearably cute, and definitely on the cusp of heat.

"Come on, we'll stay together until it hits," Eliot said, taking his hand and leading Quentin toward the stairs. Quentin trailed along after him, dropping the tie to hang around his neck like a badge of ownership. 

~

Eliot cooked them something that was nice, honestly Quentin barely even registered the food, but more importantly it was something that Eliot was actively standing and cooking rather than something he just threw in the oven and left alone or whatever, so Quentin got to just sit and watch. Normally he'd find this incomprehensibly boring, but all of his attention just wanted to be on Eliot right now. He was content to know that he was nearby, but out of the way, that he wasn't getting underfoot or being a nuisance. A welcome visitor to the process. He'd stammered through an offer to help, not knowing at all what he might be useful at, but Eliot had parked him at the kitchen table and gentled him with a kiss. Quentin crossed his arms on the table and put his head down on them, tie tucked between his forearms so it was right up close to his face. He was content, for now.

Eliot served him a pretty big portion, saying something about storing up some energy. Quentin knew this was likely to be his last hot food for days, so he ate a little more than he needed to, making sure to enjoy it, even though his clothes were starting to feel heavy, even as the chill started to get to him more. He shivered a little and pushed his plate away.

One big, warm hand reached out to rub his shoulder. "Doing okay, baby?"

Quentin nodded. "Um, I'm done, I think I should probably, uh, focus on nesting if that's gonna get done."

Eliot nodded. "Okay, let's go then. I've done enough dishes around here, someone can clean this up," he said, banishing their plates to the sink with a gesture. He grabbed a pre-prepared grocery bag that had their snacks and Gatorade, then ushered Quentin up the stairs with one warm, steady hand on his back. 

"That's it, baby, you've got it," Eliot was murmuring behind him. "I'm right here, you're doing good." He kept it up, a running commentary of reassurance and encouragement. Quentin appreciated it, getting them through his bedroom door and locking it before turning to cling to Eliot hard.

Eliot held him close and tight, rubbing his back. "It's okay, baby boy, I've got you. How are you? Is it starting?"

Quentin shook his head against Eliot's chest. They still had some time, probably somewhere between an hour and two hours. The feeling was odd -- heat was coming on slower than normal, the symptoms setting in more gradually, but he still felt better than he normally would. The presence of an alpha, an alpha he _belonged to_ , was changing his own body's routines.

Quentin was relaxing, going looser in Eliot's arms, and he hummed approvingly. "That's it, baby, relax for me. You're okay."

Quentin sighed into his chest. "Safe in here," he murmured.

"And it wasn't safe out there?" Eliot ventured, and Quentin shrugged a little, but shook his head. "Yeah, you're ready to den down, huh?" he said gently, stroking Quentin's hair. The tone was sympathetic, like Quentin was a sick little kid, but it was...kind of nice. "Why don't you go make a nest for me, baby? I'll ward up the door."

Eliot dropped a kiss on Quentin's head, but he was already moving. Yes, yes, make a nest for his alpha, make it good and secure and warm. The mattress on Quentin's bed was good and soft and it was always easier starting with a soft surface, so he stripped the covers down to nothing but the fitted sheet, and then began rearranging them. First, a layer of towels -- their texture was scratchy and everything on top of them could be stripped away and washed, they were just a final absorbent layer to keep the fitted sheet clean, for when it was over and they were exhausted and just needed to sleep on dry sheets for a while. Next, one of the mediocre blankets, to be added to later. He started in on pillows, on making it soft with multiple places to rest heads together.

He was interrupted by Eliot's hand on his shoulder. "One minute, baby," he said, kissing Quentin's cheek and then kneeling in front of him. He pushed Quentin's sweater up, and those long, elegant fingers traced against his abdomen. Quentin recognized the shapes of the birth control ward. Yes, good idea, now while they were still relatively rational and could do magic reliably.

"There you go, all safe," Eliot murmured, kissing his belly, then pulling his sweater back down. Quentin scrunched up his face and started squirming out of it instead. Clothes were starting to feel itchy and wrong, the weight of them on his skin was too much, he was supposed to be naked. Once off, he tangled his sweater up with one of the blankets near the base, making sure it would smell like him. He was dimly aware of Eliot moving away to keep doing...whatever he was doing, it didn't matter too much as long as he was close, as long as Quentin could see him and touch him anytime he needed. Quentin's jeans were deemed too scratchy to go into the nest, but he did dig into his hamper for last night's pajama pants.

Once he was done, Quentin lay in his nest, breathing lightly, aware that the room was darker than it had been (how did that happen? did the sun go down? Quentin stopped worrying about it). Wow, this was so much better than just his regular bed. He lounged back against some pillows, naked with his eyes closed, and thought about how good Eliot smelled.

"Recommended angle of approach?" Eliot asked, standing at the side of the bed. He was wearing only a soft white t-shirt and his boxer-briefs, when did he do that?

"Um, yeah, if you...like, stand on the bed over there," Quentin said, pointing to an unused corner. "You can climb in without knocking anything down."

Eliot climbed his long, lanky limbs up onto the bed and stepped over the side of the nest, then dropped down into it with him. "You did so good, baby," Eliot murmured, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. "You made such a good nest for me, you're a good boy. How do you feel? Starting yet?"

Quentin just curled into him, pressing as close as he could, letting his nose get all up in Eliot's neck business. He reached over and tugged the top blanket -- the very softest one available -- from the spot where he'd been keeping it, and pulled it over them both. Finally, he felt warm for the first time in days.

"Baby?"

Oh, right, he'd asked a question. "Soon I think," Quentin murmured. The feeling of safety and contentment was just...suffusing all his limbs, making him feel heavy and good. A proper nest was so much fucking better than just a bed.

"You smell so good, sweetheart," Eliot rumbled, making Quentin shiver. "Just rest until it starts, okay? I'm here. I've got you."

~

Eliot barely made it through their early dinner without jumping on Quentin. He smelled so sweet, like triple sec without the bite of alcohol, like some kind of ancient delicacy that would smell sweeter than it tasted, but the flavor would be sublime. 

_Contain your shit,_ he told himself. Quentin was close, yes, delectably close, but not there yet, and there were other things to do first. He focused on getting Quentin up the stairs, keeping a hand on him the whole way so he knew he wasn't alone. As soon as they were inside, Quentin attached himself and didn't seem inclined to let go.

Eliot exhaled and wrapped his arms around Quentin's shoulders. He just needed to be held for a minute, Eliot could do that. Eliot was happy to do that. The way it made him feel to be able to be stable for Quentin, to provide him with safety and comfort, was deep and intense and primal. The only thing he could imagine to be more satisfying was actually knotting him. _Soon._

Asking how he was and if it was starting netted only a head shake, but it was nice to feel him relaxing, now that they were behind a locked door. "That's it, baby, relax for me. You're okay."

"Safe in here." He was kind of...pitiful, but in a cute way. Heartbreaking. That was a good word for it. Quentin was heartbreaking as he clung and mumbled.

"And it wasn't safe out there?" he asked softly, and interpreted the shrug and head shake as 'not really.' That made sense, though. Out there, there were other omegas and other alphas who could interfere. In here, it was just them and it was safe. Quentin's hormones were driving him to seek out small, dark, defensible places. Dens, in other words.

"Yeah, you're ready to den down, huh?" Eliot asked softly, not wanting to overstimulate him. He was so sweet. Eliot knew he would kill anyone who tried to hurt or take Quentin from him, which...was going to be upsetting when he thought about it, later, but right now it was just...true, like a law of the universe. A shotgun couldn't stop him this time. "Why don't you go make a nest for me, baby? I'll ward up the door."

Quentin went straight to it, throwing things off the bed into a pile, which made Eliot grin. He seemed good for a minute, so Eliot judged it worth the risk to unlock the door and slip out.

Immediately, he felt his hackles go up. Quentin was right, it wasn't safe out here, but he needed more material than what was on his bed, and things that smelled like Eliot so it could be right. He headed toward his room with quick steps, taking the stairs up two at a time. He threw open the closet with telekinesis as he grabbed pillows off his bed and tossed them on top of his laundry basket. Telekinesis pulled his spare pillows and blanket off the closet shelf as he gathered up his bedding, bundling it into a pile in his arms. The loaded-down basket got floated in front of him as he hurried back down.

Once he was back inside and the door was locked, Eliot could breathe again. He let the basket float over to sit next to Quentin, near his pile, where he was still working busily. The blankets joined it, and Eliot cast a sound ward over the door, working quickly and surely. He added a scent ward, too, even though with their bond it wouldn't really be bothersome -- people would smell it, yeah, but the smell of a bonded omega, who had company already, wouldn't trigger the same instincts as someone unbonded. Still, Eliot wanted this orange-candy smell all to himself. He'd made sure he knew the right spell.

Eliot glanced around with a Mann reveal, making sure the wards were working; it reminded him of one more ward that needed to happen. He hated interrupting, Quentin was working so determinedly, but it was going to be a lot easier to fuck up once he was in rut and out of his mind with the need to fuck. "One minute, baby," he murmured, putting a hand on Quentin's shoulder and dropping a kiss on his cheek. Quentin turned toward him, leaning like a flower toward the sun, and Eliot took a knee.

He traced the shapes over Quentin's abdomen, holding his sweater up out of the way, then gave it a smooch and smoothed the sweater back down. No pups today. _Maybe someday,_ his brain said unbidden, and he sternly ordered himself to get his shit together again. "There you go, all safe."

Quentin made the cutest face, like a kid presented with particularly hated food, and started squirming out of the sweater. Eliot laughed softly, but stepped back to let him.

The only important thing left was the note. It wasn't strictly necessary, all they'd have to do was visit the clinic afterward and the absences would be retroactively excused. Still, the whole thing was just smoother if professors knew in advance, they could make sure to have notes and homework prepared when they arrived back in class. Probably they'd be done by Friday, and probably Quentin would go around to all his Thursday professors too, making sure he had everything, like the little nerd he was. Honestly, blessed with the best party school _ever_ and he was so concerned with little things like passing his classes.

Eliot sat in Quentin's desk chair and just watched him for a little bit. He'd built up a nice soft pad of blankets and pillows, and was adding to the sides now, twisting clothes into structured walls. Eliot noted with pleasure that all of the pillows were incorporated, and several things were missing from his laundry basket. Quentin was shaking out one of Eliot's blankets, a gray fleece microfiber thing, and laying it carefully over one side.

He was so perfect. Eliot felt a little pang of regret that all of this was meaningless and temporary.

With a sigh, he grabbed one of Quentin's pens and hunted down a notepad. _Quentin Coldwater is going into heat. He and his bonded partner, Eliot Waugh, will be absent from class at least until Friday, possibly until Monday. -EW_ Simple enough. He did the spell to send it off, cracking a window to let the note fly away to its destination.

Once the window was closed, Eliot gave a skeptical look to his thin curtains, then did a spell that would block most of the light. Another, to warm up the room a little, and then he made sure the food was within easy reach. Anything he could do to keep busy and not interfere.

The nest seemed pretty solid now, and Quentin was stripping, dumping clothes on the floor. Eliot stood up and started to disrobe himself, at least having the decency to drape his things over the back of the chair. Layered for warmth against the cold weather, he was wearing a soft t-shirt under his shirt, which he debated with for a moment. Quentin probably wanted skin contact right now. But his legs were bare, and he wanted warmth, too, and maybe leaving something to anticipate would be nice. So he kept it on and came up to the edge of the bed.

Quentin was laying in the nest, eyes closed, looking blissfully content. Eliot couldn't help grinning. He was so cute. He was a little proud of himself for prompting Quentin to nest, because he so obviously needed to, and judging from the glances Eliot had gotten at his bed back in the fall, he wouldn't have done it without being told.

"Recommended angle of approach?" He didn't want to rip the thing apart trying to get in. Eliot felt a little bit coltish as he climbed up onto the bed, but once he got down in the nest, he felt himself ease. Here he'd be staying for most of the next three or four days, and it was perfect. He was comfortable and warm, with just enough room to move around to different positions. He pulled Quentin in close, tangling up with him and telling him what a good job he'd done. Quentin only stopped long enough to pull the blanket over them (Eliot was proud to notice it was the microfiber fleece he'd provided), then went directly into scenting him.

Now that the frenzy of preparation was over, Eliot just wanted him calm and easy, a moment of gentleness before things got going. He held Quentin close and stroked his hair, glad to note that Quentin seemed relaxed. Probably his scent was helping, and Eliot shifted a little, helping Quentin nuzzle up closer. He felt Quentin press his nose in and then shiver. "El," he whimpered, and it sent a thrill up Eliot's spine.

"Shhhh," Eliot soothed. "Rest until it hits, baby boy, don't worry about talking."

"Touch me," Quentin murmured, which Eliot was obviously already doing, so he must mean something more specific.

"You want my shirt off, baby?" Quentin didn't really react to that, but Eliot stripped it off anyway, squirming out of it and then gathering Quentin close to his bare chest.

"Touch me," Quentin breathed again, and Eliot slid a hand down his back.

"Like this?" he asked, letting his hand slide down over Quentin's ass and get a grip.

Quentin exhaled sharply and nodded, pushing back. Eliot let his fingers explore between his cheeks, and Quentin pushed back again, bending one knee up toward the ceiling so his thighs were spread. 

Eliot sighed, voice dropping into an alpha rumble, the kind of tone that Quentin would feel from his toes to his head. "That's right, baby, just needed Daddy to touch you. You're a good boy," he murmured, kissing the top of Quentin's head and rubbing at his hole. It was already soft and wet, giving easily to the press of his fingers. Eliot slid one inside, delighting in the way Quentin squirmed against him.

"Look how wet you are for me," Eliot whispered, unable to help himself. He'd been with a couple of omegas going through heat, not _that_ many, not bonded, but a couple. He knew how to give in to his instincts without feeling like a mindless animal, how to take care of both of them. "Shhh. Do you need me yet?"

Quentin shook his head against Eliot's shoulder. "Just wanted it." Eliot got the sense that needing to be touched was more about comfort, right now, than anything else.

"Good boy," Eliot whispered, kissing his forehead. "Ask me for whatever you want, okay, baby boy? I'm here to protect you, make sure you get what you need. Don't want you to spend one minute wishing for something I could give," he purred, rubbing his nose along through Quentin's hair. Quentin turned his head against him, burying his nose against Eliot's jaw, right up in his scent glands, smearing them all over his face. He felt Quentin's lips drag across them and wished, for a moment, that scent was visible, that he could see the evidence of himself on Quentin's mouth.

Weird, knot-brained thoughts like that were a clear indication that he was going into rut, his ( _his_ ) omega's pheromones pulling him along. He thought about trying to get inside Quentin now, have him filled up and held when the heat really hit, but Quentin's body might not be quite pliable enough to take his size yet. More importantly, if it really lingered in arriving, there was a chance Eliot would come before he got into rut. If that happened, his recovery period would delay his ability to knot, almost definitely long enough for heat to come on, ending in Quentin whimpering and begging for him while he was useless. No, better to wait for the ache. He had a feeling they were synced up well.

Eliot knew when it hit, Quentin's whole body jerking suddenly against him. The sweetness in his scent spiked, Eliot almost choking on it, and there was a wave of slick against his fingers. " _Eliot_ ," Quentin whimpered, shocky and desperate, his body shaking.

"Yeah," Eliot said, voice hoarse. "I've got you, baby." He shifted Quentin over onto his back, nudging the soft blanket out of their way so they didn't get tangled in it. He laced his fingers with Quentin's and pushed his hands up by his head, and it was the easiest thing in the world to slide into him.

The urgency of rut was doing its work on him, and he could feel his knot swelling already. Later he'd make it good, later, once they were out of the first rush of it, he could take his time and make Quentin feel good. Later, he was gonna see how many times he could make Quentin come in a row. Right now, his only drive was to _breed_ , fucking hard into Quentin until orgasm hit him with a grunt, the knot swelling inside and locking them together.

He kept Quentin pinned down and held, not wanting him to feel alone or abandoned. He nuzzled up at Q's neck, sniffing at him, and he felt Quentin just relax all over underneath him, not a speck of tension anywhere in his body.

Eliot purred, rubbing into Quentin's neck. "Good boy," he rumbled. "That's it, baby, relax for me. Feel good?"

Quentin didn't answer with words, just these happy omega sounds. Contentment and brainless happiness were coming off him in waves, and Eliot hummed, shifting his hips a little to make Quentin feel the knot. Quentin made more happy sounds, and it had Eliot practically purring. He wasn't shivering anymore, either, and Eliot flattered himself that his body heat was keeping Quentin warm enough.

"You're a good boy," he rumbled again, wanting Quentin to hear it, feel it, remember it, know it. "So good." Thumbs brushing back and forth over Quentin's hands, he sniffed at Quentin's neck, burying himself in the scent. Without really meaning to, his nose led him to the hollow of Quentin's throat, where the smell was sweetest and strongest. He hummed and licked at it, like it might taste as sweet.

A shiver rippled through Quentin's body, from his shoulders to his hips. Eliot mirrored it, nuzzling into his throat, sucking at the hollow. Quentin was making these irresistible little pleasure sounds, like he was pleading with Eliot not to stop. Eliot became dimly aware that he was sucking at Quentin's mating gland right now, but as long as he kept his teeth to himself, it was fine. This didn't have to mean anything, it was just...feelings, physical feelings, sensation. All it really meant was that Quentin was happy and satisfied; oxytocin and endorphins stimulated the mating gland to put off scent, and the thought of that drew a content growl out of Eliot's chest. 

After a few minutes, Quentin's muscles started waking up. He whimpered, clenching around the half-deflated knot, and Eliot lifted his head. "Yeah?" he murmured. "Want Daddy to make you come, baby?"

Quentin nodded frantically. " _Eliot_ ," he whimpered, desperate, and Eliot ground his hips, letting the knot tug, letting Quentin feel it.

"That's it, baby," Eliot purred, still laying over him, but pushing his hands up over his head, so he felt the pin more acutely. "Gonna come for me? Gonna come like a good boy?"

Quentin whimpered again, his legs shaking. Eliot tried to angle himself a little so Quentin's dick was trapped between them, dragging against both their stomachs as the knot pulled at him. "Come on, Quentin," he whispered. "Come. Show me how pretty it is, baby, I wanna see you come, you're a good boy. Come on, little Q. _Come_ ," he ordered, voice dropping into alpha register, and Quentin cried out, back arching hard as he obeyed, making a mess between them.

"Good _boy_ ," Eliot growled, kissing all over Quentin's face as he clenched hard on Eliot's knot, giving it a good squeeze. When Quentin was done and his muscles relaxed, the knot was deflated enough to slip out, making Eliot sigh.

"Just gonna clean you up, okay?" he murmured, and pulled back, doing a quick tut to clean the mess from both of them -- not that there was all that much. An omega in heat getting knotted didn't really produce a lot of semen, most of their body's processes turned the other way. Thinking of it, he did the spell again to get some slick off Quentin and the bed. He laid back down, half on top of Quentin this time, and pulled the blanket over them again.

"Feel good, sweetheart?" he asked, kissing Quentin's shoulder. Quentin nodded, back to boneless and happy, making Eliot smile. "Good. You smell happy," he noted with a grin.

"Am," Quentin said, turning to nuzzle into Eliot's neck. He could feel the intimate sensation of Quentin's breath over his scent glands, inhaling. 

"That's right, baby," Eliot murmured, petting his hair. "I've got you."

~

The thing Quentin had gotten so good at ignoring was the _cold_. Even the times when he did manage to nest up before heat, since apparently the instinct that was supposed to tell him when to nest was fucking broken, it was never really right, never really good enough. But now, sharing body heat with Eliot, nose full of his scent, huddled down under a good blanket, he was _warm_.

The first few waves had passed in a blur, and Quentin was pretty sure it was actually night now -- in upstate New York in February, that could just as easily be like four P.M., but he didn't think so.

"Time's it?" he asked fuzzily, rolling over into Eliot and nuzzling into his throat.

"Mmm." Eliot lifted up a little, peering over toward Quentin's clock, then settled back down. "Seven-ish."

Quentin nodded, trying to wrap his arms and legs around Eliot to keep him close. Eliot chuckled softly and moved to accommodate him, slender but muscled arms coming down around his shoulders. "Probably got a few minutes if you think we need anything," Quentin said, voice a little hoarse. Had he been yelling? Probably, yes. 

"You realize you'd have to let go of me for that," Eliot said, tone amused.

Quentin made a sound of protest and tightened his grip. Eliot just laughed and ran soothing fingers through his hair.

"Lucky for you I don't think I could leave you if I tried right now. Be like chewing off a limb."

That was...intense, but like, not really that far away from Quentin's feelings, either, so he made a satisfied noise. "Good."

"How would you feel about trying to make it to the bathroom and eat something?"

Even being far away enough to pee unimpeded didn't sound great right now. Heat meant he could hold it longer, anyway. He made an unhappy noise and clung a little harder. "Second one, maybe."

"Okay, sweetheart," Eliot said, stroking his hair again, then lifting one hand. Quentin made a happy little sound at realizing they didn't even have to stop cuddling, with Eliot's telekinesis. Eliot kissed his forehead, floating over a pack of jerky and catching it out of the air, presenting it to Quentin.

"Bacon jerky?" Quentin asked, squinting at the package. 

"You're as in love with bacon as every other extremely online Millennial."

"I'm not _that_ online," he grumbled, making Eliot laugh as he tore open the package.

Worse, he turned out to be right -- the bacon jerky was actually really good, better than beef jerky, which Quentin had never really liked, just tolerated as the best shelf-stable protein option available. Eliot took a few pieces, but mostly let Quentin munch, his legs still wrapped possessively around Eliot's.

"Feel okay?" Eliot asked, brushing hair back from Quentin's face. "What's the usual pattern here? How long do we have?"

Quentin swallowed his bacon. "Not a lot longer. Uh, it's a little different with an alpha, the lulls are longer. Easier. I'm told you'll be able to smell when it's over. Uh, it'll be really intense for the rest of the night at least, we probably won't get a lot of lulls longer than this. By morning we'll start getting a few hours at a time, enough to sleep, at least. And I won't be so...clingy," he said, making a face.

Looking down at Eliot's chest, he saw the hand coming up to rest on his cheek, thumb brushing under his eye. "Baby boy, you're in heat," Eliot said, soft and kind. "You be as clingy as you need to, okay? I'll be here."

Quentin nodded a little. "Okay. _Daddy_ ," he said, giving Eliot a little smirk and a glance up.

Eliot had the grace to blush, even as he was smiling. "Sorry, just kinda happens in rut. Speaking of which, I'm feeling just as clingy, so it's fine. Rut is reactive, you know? My body and brain want to give you whatever you need. I'm yours right now, baby boy."

Quentin nodded, looking down again. "Then, um. Will you just, like. Cuddle me? Until it starts again?"

Eliot floated the bacon away without another word and gathered Quentin in close to his chest, tucking his chin over the top of Quentin's head. He sighed, relaxing in Eliot's arms. If he had to have a random, just-as-a-friend alpha helping him through it, at least it was Eliot. Without a doubt, the best of all possible options.

"Do you like, _want_ me to call you that?" he asked, a little muffled against Eliot's chest.

"Call me what?"

Quentin just waited.

"Oh, um." He paused a moment. "Let's talk about that when you're fully out of heat, okay, baby boy? I know you're in a lull, just..."

Just that even in a lull, he still had heat hormones rushing through him, and they might change what he was willing to say yes to. Personally, Quentin was kind of fine with that, as long as Eliot didn't keep expecting it once he was back to normal, and it wasn't like a name to call him was all that dramatic, in the grand scheme of kinks they could be doing. But best sexual practices still said they should wait, so he nodded a little. "I get it."

"Try to rest, okay? I've got you." Eliot wrapped his hand over the back of Quentin's neck in the way that just seemed to turn his brain right off. He'd learned recently that this was, in part, an actual biological thing -- alpha hand to back of omega neck equals boneless omega. But it still felt somehow intimate and personal, like only Eliot's hand could do this. Like he only _wanted_ Eliot's hand to do this. He thought about how good it would feel to sleep like this, later, and felt his whole body buzz with deep, primal, satisfied-omega pleasure.

"Sweet boy," Eliot murmured, and Quentin sighed, nuzzling into him. He almost didn't want the next wave to come, but he could already feel it, the growing ache for something inside him. He could hear Eliot sniffing the air lightly, scenting him, picking up on the turn.

It seemed to twist inside him, the ache suddenly sharpening, and Quentin whimpered, scrabbling out of Eliot's hold to present himself. The nice thing about being totally surrounded by walls of soft was that he didn't have to think about positioning to keep his head where heads went, he could just topple over onto his elbows and knees, legs spread wide apart, shivering as cool air hit wet skin. He heard Eliot growl softly behind him, reacting to the sight, and whimpered again, a needy sound.

He felt the bed under them shift as Eliot got up and came toward him. One big, warm hand was planted on Quentin's shoulder, holding him down, and he whined as the head of Eliot's cock rubbed against where he was so sensitive. "You look so pretty for me, baby," Eliot rumbled, and Quentin yelped as he thrust inside all at once.

A sharp slap to his ass made Quentin cry out, and Eliot started to move inside him, long, slow thrusts that seemed to drag Quentin's fucking soul out of his body. Fuzzy-brained and needy and shaky, he tried to beg without words, sticking his ass up more, clenching down. He could feel his prick leaking as his alpha mounted him.

"You love it when Daddy breeds you, huh?" Eliot murmured, and Quentin shivered, every cell in his body crying out _yes, yes, I love it._ Eliot chuckled, seeming to know what was going through his head. Maybe he could smell how Quentin's arousal spiked when he talked like that. "Yeah, I know you do. You want to be filled up. You want me to fuck you so good you can't walk. You want everyone to know I _fucked_ you," he said, emphasizing it with a hard thrust that made Quentin sob, "and _knotted_ you, and _bred_ you like the good boy you are. Let me hear how much you love getting bred." 

Did Eliot always turn into a fucking heat porn in rut? Jesus fuck. "I-I-I..." Heat and a hard fuck were making it hard to talk, but he wanted to try. Eliot made him want to try. "I l-love..."

"Good boy," Eliot said, giving him a little mercy. Another few sharp slaps came down on Quentin's ass, every one making his cock twitch and driving a cry from his throat. "Ready to get bred, baby boy?"

Quentin nodded frantically against the bed. "Knot me, knot me, _please_ , Eliot, _oh_!" Turned out talking was much easier when it was to beg for the knot. It was catching, tugging at his rim, making him feel so fucking good, and with a groan, Eliot shoved in deep and let the knot swell inside him, hard and big and satisfying. God, it had to be the size of Eliot's fist. 

Quentin could feel himself going loose and relaxed, like he always did when he got a good knotting. A faint thought drifted through his head about using one of his knot toys with Eliot -- maybe Eliot would like to knot Quentin's mouth again, or maybe he could get his jaw around a toy. Eliot's knot had been a lot to take, but most of his toys were smaller than him.

He was expecting Eliot to move them, navigate them onto their sides or something, but he only settled back on his haunches a little, pulling Quentin's hips down so he was in more of a crouch, his ass in Eliot's lap. He couldn't really get low enough for the knot not to tug a little, but that was okay, it felt amazing. It was easier, anyway, with all his muscles loosened up the way he always got for a knotting. It was so much better when the knot was real and not made of silicone.

Another couple of slaps to his ass had Quentin twitching and making little noises, but he was as chill about it as Eliot seemed. It was almost lazy, Eliot just lifting his hand and letting it fall, letting the weight of his arm do most of the work. But the next couple of blows were harder, making Quentin whine, making him acutely aware he hadn't come yet.

"What are you-nnh!" Quentin cut himself off with a desperate noise as he was hit again.

"Making my favorite pain-loving knot-slut come," Eliot said, in a tone that felt like honey dripping down Quentin's spine. "Don't act like getting spanked and a pulling knot won't do it."

Quentin realized with a soft sound that Eliot had put them in this position, with the knot tugging at him, on purpose. Eliot gave him another hard slap, making Quentin whimper and his hole clench.

"Have I told you how hot it is that you go limp when I knot you?" Eliot whispered, in between blows. Quentin's skin was starting to feel warm, surely pinking up, starting to keep some of the soreness in between slaps. "How you're like a puppet with his strings cut, giving all your control to me? Mmm, trusting me? Makes me wanna stay in this nest with you and do nothing but give you my knot for the rest of my life."

Quentin had a weird, dizzy thought about how if you had to die of dehydration, it would be a hell of a way to go. He'd have been shaking if he had a little more muscle tension, panting needily against the pillow under his head.

"Gonna come for me, baby boy?" Eliot asked, giving one cheek a hard pinch, then a harder slap. "Gonna come while I knot you and hurt you?"

Quentin whimpered once and shook through his orgasm, feeling it like a rush of water that overtook him and then passed, not long and drawn-out but satisfying. 

"Good boy," Eliot rumbled behind him, now rubbing his big, warm hands soothingly over Quentin's ill-used ass. "Do you know how good you smell when you come? It's gorgeous, sweetheart. Once we're untied I'm gonna eat you out, baby," he promised, a shimmer of excitement in his tone, sparkling through Quentin like a firework. "I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good until you can take the knot again, baby, you deserve it."

Quentin could feel his brain starting to go. Soon, everything would be remembered only as a confused, blurry jumble, up until he got a lull again. That was okay. He had an alpha to fuck and protect him, to carry him through it until they got to the other side. He didn't have to think of anything else.

~

It was obvious that Quentin's brain was gone, at this point. Eliot was glad he himself was keeping it together enough to protect Quentin, and doubly glad for telekinesis. He wedged Quentin's chair up under the door, because he was fairly sure that if anyone came into this room right now, Eliot would rip their throat out, no matter who it was.

Maybe not Julia. But it would be a near thing, and only because she was Quentin's beta. Even Margo would be an unacceptable invasion.

He obsessed over it a little, sitting up in the nest and putting up wards and physical barriers, everything he could think of, windows and doors alike, until he heard Quentin whimper next to him. Immediately, his attention snapped there, and Quentin was already pulling his knees up and back as Eliot looked, presenting for his alpha. Presenting for _Eliot._ He was so goddamn beautiful Eliot couldn't stand it.

"I'm here, baby," he murmured, pushing his voice deep and gravelly as he laid over Quentin and slid into him again. "I've got you. I'm here. That's me inside you, you're safe."

Even if he wasn't necessarily processing words, Quentin sighed and went loose under him, hands still resting on his knees, but no longer pulling at them. He seemed relaxed and happy, and Eliot sighed in contentment, rocking into him.

He encouraged Quentin's legs to wrap up around his waist, easier to maintain but still keeping himself open. That freed Quentin's hands for Eliot to take his wrists and push them up over his head. Eliot knew he liked that, although at the moment, he didn't really seem like he cared. All he needed was the knot. That was fine, he'd get it soon enough.

Eliot was licking and sucking at the hollow of Quentin's throat when he came, the sweet pheromones pushing him over the edge, shuddering on top of his sweet boy. He felt Quentin go boneless, as always, and lifted his head to look Quentin in the face. He could almost be asleep, he looked so peaceful. Eliot sighed, reaching up to brush a sweaty strand of hair back where it was stuck to his temple. 

"Can you hear me, sweet boy?" he asked, tone soft. "Can you understand me?"

Quentin didn't respond except to turn his head a little, leaning towards Eliot's touch. Eliot smiled softly and brushed his thumb back and forth over Quentin's cheekbone. "Yeah, you're totally out, huh?" he said softly. "So what if I say you scare me?"

There was no real response except to settle deeper into Eliot's touch. Eliot knew him well enough by now to know that if he was understanding English at all, he'd have had a reaction to that.

"You do," Eliot said softly, taking an unsteady breath. "I just...feel so much for you. Not just when we're in heat or rut, but all the time? Before that first time you kissed me?" He laid his cheek against Quentin's shoulder, watching the tiny throb of his pulse in his neck. "And I'm terrified because you could really hurt me, if you wanted. And someone else could really hurt me by taking you away. I try to make myself really hard to hurt, you know," he murmured, dragging his fingers down Quentin's arm to watch goosebumps rise. "But you showed up like an armor-piercing tank. And I'm just useless."

Quentin made a soft noise, and Eliot could feel him starting to move a little. His liquid muscles were tensing again, his stomach clenching to push his hips up. "I've got you, sweetheart," Eliot promised, shifting and sliding a hand down between them to wrap around his needy little cock.

~

At the end of it, when the last wave of heat had passed, Quentin had enough energy to let Eliot bring him into the shower. Eliot helped him wash dried slick and come off his thighs, and they scent-marked each other under the water, rubbing necks and wrists together happily. It made that contented feeling swell in Eliot's chest, the satisfaction of taking care of his omega. 

Quentin said he wasn't hungry, so Eliot let him dry himself while he stripped the nest off the bed, leaving the fitted sheet. Once he'd selected a few pillows that still seemed cleanish and a blanket that had been woven into the sides, Eliot tucked Quentin in safe.

"I'll be back soon, baby," Eliot said, holding Quentin's hand and kissing his forehead. "I just want to walk around, I'm restless."

Quentin nodded, already looking dozy. "Back soon?" he asked, voice soft and faint with sleep.

"Back soon," Eliot agreed, squeezing his hand and smiling a little at the repetition. He threw on silk pajama pants and a robe so he could swan about in elegance without putting on real clothes. He wanted a cigarette, and he wanted to do a quick patrol around the cottage. He knew there were no actual threats around, the Brakebills wards had that more than handled, it was _fine_ , but dumb alpha brain just needed to be sure. 

It wasn't as though he wasn't tired, yawning widely as he shut Quentin's door behind him. It would be nice, once he was satisfied with their safety, to get back in bed with Quentin and sleep for twelve hours. The sun was down, and he was pretty sure it had been down for a while, so he was going to count that as close enough to bedtime. 

He went up to his room, picking up his cigarettes and glancing around to see that everything was in place. His laundry basket and extra bedding -- which yes, he did definitely keep because he needed to be able to offer nesting material to any omegas who needed it, despite knowing that it was a bad idea if he wasn't bonded -- were with Quentin, and everything else was pretty much where he'd left it. 

As he came back down the stairs, Eliot ruminated on the fact that he'd never really gotten to care for someone the way he was being allowed to care for Quentin. He hadn't been through heat with Trevor -- really he'd only ever gotten a weekend with him -- so he'd never needed it. He'd done little things to help his various omega friends, but normally he was smart enough not to do all the obviously claim-y bullshit he'd done with Quentin. He'd handed more than one beta something to pass along, or provided just small little bits at a time. Small enough to count as just helping.

He indulged himself in one good prowl along the perimeter of the hallway, giving any unusual smells or sounds the opportunity to present themselves to him. Nothing seemed amiss, but Margo's door popped open just as he was in front of it.

"Oh. Hi, Bambi," he said, light and casual, like she hadn't caught him patrolling like a guard dog.

"We need to talk, bitch."

Margo grabbed his arm to pull him inside, but Eliot resisted. "Let's walk and talk. I'm dying for a cigarette," he said, letting her see the shape of the pack in his pocket.

"I'll open a fucking window," Margo insisted, pulling on him again, her grip on his arm near-bruising. Eliot heaved a put-upon sigh, but acquiesced this time. Margo shut the door behind him as he took himself to her window seat, pulling the cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket. 

"So are you and Coldwater like, a thing, or what?" Margo asked, unlatching the window to throw it open. Eliot shivered and pulled the robe shut over his chest a little more, but it was probably better than going all the way outside would be. He paused while he lit his cigarette, taking the time to decide on a response.

"Of course we are," he said, a little hoarse as he exhaled the first drag. "We help each other out."

Margo rolled her eyes, plopping down on the other side of the seat. So rarely did his Bambi _plop_. "It is absolutely insane to me that you can be knotting that ass on the regular, fucking _scent-bonded_ , and still spout this 'in a friend way' bullshit."

"He doesn't like me that way, Margo," Eliot said, tilting his head in a manner meant to communicate that she should know this. "Q needs...like, a lumberjack," Eliot said. "You know. One of those big alphas with massive red beards and ungroomed bushes. Strong. A provider. Gives him pups and then goes out and builds him a cabin with their hands or something."

Margo just stared at him, arms crossed over her chest. "He say that? Have you even fucking _asked_ him what he wants?"

"That boy wouldn't know what he wanted if it pinned him down and knotted him."

"You can fucking say that again," Margo said, positively spitting venom. It only took Eliot a second to contextualize that line in this conversation and okay, yes, poorly chosen.

"Look," Margo continued, making a visible effort to contain her shit. "If you're a thing, whatever. Great. You don't have to hide it on my account. If you're not, I get that, also not a big deal, especially with your history. I'm not gonna be mad about it or whatever the fuck, I just need to know the situation. Alpha brain's going nuts trying to figure you two out, so I, like an _adult_ , am _asking_."

"Well, I'm telling you the truth, Bambi," Eliot said, and took another drag on his cigarette. "We agreed to bond so that we can help each other, because Brakebills has an ass-backwards policy that you can't get an excused absence for someone else's cycle unless they're your bonded partner, and he still gives a shit about that. We haven't agreed to be in any kind of romantic relationship, and I don't have any reason to believe he wants to be. In fact, he told me when we started all this that he doesn't _want_ to date, he wants to focus on school, at least for his first year, and the bonding is also to make sure other alphas know he's not looking." Eliot spread his hands. "That's it. The whole situation."

Margo narrowed her eyes at him, nostrils flared. "That's not the whole situation. What do _you_ want?"

Her tone made it sound accusatory, but Eliot knew it was genuinely felt. He took another drag, looking out the window. "I want to be a good alpha," he said quietly. "I want him to feel happy and safe and supported. So that means it doesn't matter what I want," he said, swinging his gaze back around to her. "What I want is whatever I can do to best support him."

"Let me ask you one question," Margo said. "When's the last time either of you fucked someone else?"

Eliot stalled with another long drag. Surely Quentin had hooked up, and if he hadn't, well, Quentin just wasn't that sort anyway. Eliot...well. There was just no getting around that he hadn't been himself, was there? No one else had appealed to him since they'd been back from winter break, not when he knew it would just take a smile and a whisper to get hot little Q in his bed.

"It still doesn't matter," Eliot said quietly, looking out the window instead of meeting Margo's eyes. He tossed the butt out. "Can I go now? Alpha brain still wants to check the house over."

Margo just sighed, staring at him with a look of consternation and concern. "You can't do this forever, Eliot. Sooner or later shit's gonna break, in one direction or the other."

Eliot rose from the seat, pulling his robe a little tighter around him and adjusting the knot of the belt. "And when that happens, I'm sure you'll be first in line for the 'I told you so.'"

When he left Margo's room he found that he didn't actually care about the perimeter anymore, struck by the urge to see to Quentin's safety up close. His hackles were up now. So he went back to Quentin's, shedding his robe and sliding back into bed with him. Quentin was asleep, or mostly, but he rolled over and draped himself across Eliot, snuggling into his warmth. Eliot watched as Quentin nosed into his skin and smiled a content little smile.

Fuck what Margo thought. He was going to keep this as long as possible.


	4. i feel stupid but i think i been catchin' on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's technically after midnight in Mountain time, and that makes this Thursday.
> 
> Thank you, as always, to my forever beta, redtoblack, and to punkfistfights and TheAudity. Also, a note: you may or may not notice that I've been updating the tags every chapter (mostly with things newly introduced in that chapter), so you may want to give those a skim, especially for this chapter and the next. There's nothing especially triggery coming up, just things that aren't everyone's cup of tea! 
> 
> Now: let us knot.

"You're not _broken_ ," Julia said.

"Obviously I am," Quentin retorted, staring into the book he wasn't reading. "Since apparently I need a big strong alpha to fucking, like, _tell me when to nest_ , I can't actually keep a handle on my shit well enough to do it myself."

Quentin was in a bitchy, self-loathing mood that he probably shouldn't be inflicting on Julia, but she was pretty used to it. It didn't seem to be interrupting her studying at all to occasionally spout a platitude at him, at least, and while Quentin knew she was just bullshitting him, it made him feel, like, marginally better to get it off his chest, whether she was actually listening or not.

The ice and snow were melting away outside as spring drew near, the first buds and hints of green starting to burst out of the brown and white. Spring break was approaching, leaving them midterms to deal with. Probably this whole mood was just stress from that, the neverending concern that he was a fraud, actually, and any second now Brakebills was going to notice and he was going to flunk out. It was a sign that Quentin was in a good place, really, that he could view this thought with tired annoyance and move on with his studying.

Bitching about _something_ made him feel better, though.

"I just hate feeling _dependent_. Like he cooks for me and stuff and I like it? But I shouldn't need him to cook for me? Or he gives me a blanket and I take it instead of like, going to the store and getting my own. It's like, I'm an adult, right?"

"So break up with him."

Quentin's head whipped around to stare at her. He hadn't really expected her to respond at all, let alone with such a sharp left turn. "What?"

Julia didn't even have the decency to look up, her tone absent as she spoke into her book. "If you don't like how he makes you feel, then break up. You keep telling me you're not really together, so it should be easy, right?"

"It...it's not that simple," Quentin stammered, feeling like he'd fallen through ice and was scrambling to breathe now.

"Why not?"

"It...it's just..." Quentin looked around as if the bookshelves would help him. "Well. You know, he's expecting rut soon, so. I can't just leave him in the lurch, you know?"

"Right." Quentin looked back at her to see Julia nod, a smirk quirking her lips. "Of course. Just for his rut." She glanced up at him without moving her head, her smirk turned knowing.

Quentin sighed and turned back to his book, frowning. "No one asked you," he mumbled grumpily.

~

"Ah, Quentin!" Eliot declared as Quentin came in, strutting up to him in usual style. He seemed light and happy, bestowing Quentin with one of those beatific grins. "Bambi and I finalized the plans. Ready for Spring break in Santorini?"

"Uh." Quentin blinked. He'd heard that name vaguely before? "I...guess so?"

"It's a Greek island," Eliot said, taking Quentin's arm to walk with him up the stairs. "Absolutely gorgeous. Easy portal to Mykonos to keep me and Bambi happy, enough cultural stuff to entertain you, lots of food and wine for all of us. And rut's almost definitely going to hit while we're there, so I can knot your pretty ass with the sea breeze in our hair," he said, leaning in for a filthy murmur that made Quentin blush.

"And even if it doesn't," Eliot continued, straightening up, "we still get a fun vacation in Greece and then we can come back and I'll fuck you here."

"I mean, you can fuck me here anyway," Quentin said, regaining a little bit of balance. "Whenever we're not, you know, studying."

Eliot made a contemplative noise. "You know, you don't appear to be studying right now, little Q."

"Looks can be deceiving," Quentin said, because he was absolutely fucking useless.

Fortunately for him, Eliot just laughed. "Well, maybe I can make it worth your while to stop, hmm?"

They'd reached Quentin's door, and Eliot paused, giving him a chance to break away now, or to continue on with Eliot to his room. Quentin glanced around like the whole cottage didn't know about them at this point.

"Okay, just...a quick one, okay?" Quentin said, opening his door just long enough to drop his bag. "I really do have to get back to studying."

~

Midterms passed with a basically normal amount of stress and drama, and then Eliot helped Quentin pack his suitcase when they were done. The plan was to take a portal to Greece and then a boat to the island, so there wasn't too much concern about restrictions on their bags. Presumably that meant Eliot was bringing some ridiculous number of them, but Quentin kept it down to a sensible carry-on with only a minor planar compression spell on it. 

And his messenger bag with books in it, but that was just normal, right?

So Quentin drifted in Eliot and Margo's wake, keeping pace with the knot of luggage Eliot was levitating along, as they led the way to the portal, talking about everything they intended to do. Quentin had looked up the island and made notes of a few of his own things -- Eliot was right, there was a lot of historical and geological stuff on the island. He was particularly looking forward to the prehistoric village, which sounded, just, endlessly cool. 

"If I don't come back at least three shades darker, you have to promise to shoot me," Margo was saying as they approached the portal. "I intend to park my ass on a beach and not get up until Sunday."

"Don't burn your feet on it," Quentin offered, raising his voice a little to be heard. "Uh, I mean, if it's one of the black sand beaches? You can burn your feet if you're not, like, wearing sandals or, I guess, have some kind of protective charm. Black sand gets hotter than white because, just, black absorbs more heat, and cause it's basically, like, obsidian just in tiny pieces."

"Someone's been reading," Margo said with a grin, an amused tilt to her tone as she looked back at him. "You get all that off the internet, little Q?"

"Um, I kinda went down a wiki hole," Quentin said, blushing. Eliot was falling back to get behind him and the luggage, a hand lightly brushing the small of Quentin's back to usher him past. "I saw-" He paused to step through the portal, waiting for Eliot and their luggage to follow before he continued. "I saw the black sand beaches and got curious about, like, how that happens? And the answer is, uh, volcanoes." He nodded once.

Eliot grabbed his shoulder from behind and reeled him in, tucking Quentin up under his arm. "Have I told you that I love your curiosity?"

"Uh, probably at some point," Quentin said, blushing harder.

Eliot's arm was a little too tight around his shoulders to be casual, and there was a heaviness to his scent. Quentin turned his head a little and inhaled. It was subtle, half washed-out by the salty ocean air on this side of the portal, but between that and Eliot clutching him close, Quentin could read the signs. At least it would be nice to do rut first while they got used to the time difference, and then be adjusted and ready to go for the rest of the week.

"Hey," he said quietly. "I'll stay close until we get to the hotel."

Eliot nodded, silent, but Quentin could see the clench in his jaw. It was apparent that suddenly being in a foreign country without any real protection from threats must have hit Eliot extra hard in the protective instincts, especially with pre-rut fucking with his head. It would be easy to chafe and bristle at it, but it was how Eliot showed care, how his brain and biology responded to people that mattered to him. So Quentin took it in the spirit it was meant and met Eliot where he was.

He glanced around quickly, then stretched up to sniff at Eliot's throat, taking in his orange-peel-and-cedar scent. A shockingly intimate thing to do in public, but no one was paying attention to them. Eliot looked down at him, startled. Quentin gave a little smile back. He'd been hoping that being scented would calm Eliot down some, remind his brain that Quentin was here and happy and content, there were no threats to speak of. As a wondering little smile broke across Eliot's face, he felt satisfied that he'd succeeded.

The ferry port was a short walk, and while Quentin's main association with ferries was open-air seats and metal benches, the boat they boarded turned out to be a lot more like a small cruise ship. Quentin spotted a bar and restaurant, a gift shop, and a sunroom as Margo led the way to their cabin, which turned out to be a tiny room with little more than a desk and two twin beds. 

Luggage stacked on the desk and held in place with a quick spell, Margo claimed one of the beds and took a pill out of her purse. "Mama's not dealing with seasickness today, so wake me when we get to the island." She popped it in her mouth, swallowed, and flopped down, sunglasses over her eyes.

"Okay, good night," Quentin said, unsure what else to do. 

Eliot laughed and reeled him in with that arm around his shoulders again. "Come on, let's go get a drink while her pill kicks in. Once she's out we can basically throw a party in here and she won't notice."

"Damn skippy," Margo said.

~

Hardly twenty minutes later, Eliot was bullying Quentin back into the cabin. Even going for the drink had been a mistake -- as much as he'd normally advocate for vacation starting on the ferry, he couldn't help feeling threatened in the presence of so many strangers, ready to snap and snarl at anyone who strayed within ten feet of them. This was _his_ omega, no one else allowed to touch.

Thank god for Quentin recognizing pre-rut before Eliot did, or he might have made an ass of himself. It was easier to control those urges when he recognized them for what they were. Quentin was being a very good and helpful boy, staying close and in his sight, being careful not to do anything that would make this harder on Eliot. Still, they should have just sat in the cabin and waited for Bambi to fall asleep.

Eliot locked the door, and warded it for sound and scent to be safe. Not the best idea in the world to throw magic around on a Muggle boat, but that was a more acceptable risk than the alternative.

"Hey," Quentin said behind him, soft and sweet. Always so sweet. Eliot felt him kiss the back of his shoulder. "It's okay."

"It will be," Eliot rumbled, turning and pushing Quentin back until he fell back on the bed. Even startled and uncoordinated he did it beautifully, his hands and legs just falling totally naturally into 'ravish me' position. What a pretty boy, a beautiful little omega. His, for now.

"Whoa, hang on, shouldn't we-" Quentin was looking toward Margo, asleep and snoring just slightly on her bed, but Eliot cut him off with a hand over his throat, covering his scent glands with warmth and pressure.

"We should do exactly what we're doing, baby boy," Eliot murmured, and pushed Quentin to roll over onto his stomach. He went without complaint, as prettily pliant as ever. He didn't even complain as Eliot reached under him for his belt, then dragged his jeans and underwear down to expose his perfect little ass. The muffled whimper when Eliot buried his face there, licking at him without shame, was enough to make Eliot dizzy.

Eliot gave his ass a hard slap as he pulled back, making Quentin whine and push back. Eliot just chuckled, rubbing the red spot he'd left behind. "God, I could just spank you for hours, baby boy. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just letting me hurt you until we get to the island. Have to limp off this boat, your ass on fire, flinching and crying just cause your pants are touching it."

Quentin made another mewling sound, hips moving, rubbing himself into the bed. "Are you gonna fuck me or what?" he whispered back.

"Maybe not with that attitude," Eliot said with a smirk. "I think you should apologize for being a brat."

Eliot watched him look over at Margo and gave another hard slap, the sound echoing in the cabin. She didn't even twitch. "I'm sorry," Quentin said, turning his face into the pillow.

Another slap. "Sorry for what?"

"Um...being a brat?"

Another. "You were just trying to get Daddy to punish you, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Quentin breathed, arching to hump the bed again. "Wanted it."

"That's right." Eliot could hear the rumble in his own voice, alpha register coming out unbidden. Another few hits and Quentin's pretty ass was all red, probably sore, the hits starting to leave ghosts of themselves behind. "You look so pretty, baby," Eliot purred. "Letting me hurt you. Look at you."

"Shouldn't we, uh..." Quentin let out a desperate sound, obviously struggling to talk. "How are we gonna, um, get to the hotel?"

Eliot paused at that. "What?"

"You know, uh. I'm. We're gonna, uh, you're gonna be in rut by the time we get there. Should you be, like, out and around like that?"

Eliot thought about it. He wasn't wrong -- Eliot didn't know if there were actual laws against that in Santorini, but there could be, and either way it was probably a bad idea to go pissing off the locals by strutting through the streets in rut. Quentin in heat was protected, more or less, by the scent of an alpha on him, but omega scent on Eliot wouldn't put anyone off. If anything, it might attract more, a biological quirk which had been used to justify all sorts of chauvinistic treatment toward omegas.

His brain couldn't handle this right now, fuzzy with impending rut. His knot wasn't aching yet, but it was coming. He directed his energy into spanking Quentin hard again. "We've got five hours to worry about that. Right now, all you need to worry about is being good and letting Daddy use you. Can you do that?"

"Yeah," Quentin breathed, nodding and dropping his head. "Yeah, I wanna be good." 

"Good boy," Eliot rumbled, and quickly did a spell to conjure lube. He didn't really like using this spell -- magic just didn't compare to proper lube, of which Eliot was a connoisseur -- but spit wasn't enough and pre-rut pheromones couldn't get Quentin wet. He slid two fingers into Quentin to make him moan and squirm, spreading them inside him and twisting, trying to see how loud he could make his pretty boy get. Quentin just bit the pillow, clearly to spite him, so Eliot spanked him again.

The reaction to that was, if anything, even bigger. "Oh, you like that, huh?" Eliot purred. "Like Daddy hurting you with your little hole full?"

"Yeah," Quentin moaned, nodding desperately against the pillow. "Yeah, like it, _Daddy_..." 

Eliot's eyes widened. He'd considered himself lucky enough that Quentin wasn't totally put off by the daddy thing, and now he was actually participating? Why was he so fucking perfect? As a reward, Eliot spanked him hard again and curled his fingers, making Quentin shout.

"Yeah? Don't come until I'm inside you, baby boy."

Quentin let out a long, keening sound of protest, but nodded, his lustrous hair scattering everywhere. "Yeah Daddy," he mumbled, and Eliot felt his cock throb.

"Good boy," he growled, driving his fingers hard into Quentin and hitting him with the other hand. Quentin just took it beautifully, pushing his ass back and shaking. He was opening up for Eliot's fingers and taking every hit with pleasure, and he seemed to have totally forgotten about Bambi passed out on the other bed. 

"Daddy!" he cried. "Wanna come, gonna come, please please..."

"I said no, baby," Eliot cooed. "Not until Daddy's got his cock inside you."

"Then fucking _do it_ , fuck me, please..."

Eliot had intended to draw this out more, but it was hard to resist when he begged so pretty. Hands shaking a little, Eliot tutted for more lube as he pulled his pants open, tugging himself free. He smeared his coated palm down the considerable length, then leaned forward, planting his other hand on the bed for balance as he guided himself into place and nudged at Quentin's hole. Quentin pushed back, making Eliot gasp as he slipped inside.

"You feel so good, baby boy," he rumbled, taking his hand away to rock forward a few inches at a time, working Quentin open with as much care as he could muster. "That's it, let me in, baby, take it, take Daddy's cock..."

"I'm gonna come," Quentin whined, white-knuckling the pillow.

"Come for me, baby, come like a little slut," Eliot urged, and Quentin shouted into the pillow, hole clenching hard on the base of his cock, where a knot would be in a few hours. Pre-rut made him more sensitive than usual, shivering and groaning at the delicious pressure.

"Good boy," Eliot murmured, petting Quentin's back and rocking into him slow and easy. "So good for me. Such a good little slut."

"Feels good," Quentin murmured, and something curled in pleasure in Eliot's gut, some alpha instinct to blow his omega's mind, keep them through sheer force of sexual prowess. He planted a hand on the back of Quentin's neck and leaned into it, pinning him down as he just let himself fuck in hard, driving deep until he came with a groan, hips twitching against the meat of Quentin's ass.

He sighed and pulled out, chuckling at the sad little noise Quentin made. One still-shaky hand gave Q's reddened ass a pat. "Plenty more where that came from in a few minutes, baby boy."

~

A few hours later, Quentin woke from a postcoital nap. The first thing he did was lean up, sniffing sleepily at Eliot's throat. As always, Quentin would have had trouble trying to describe the smell, but Eliot was in rut, he was sure of it. When he woke up, he was going to need to knot.

Well, shit. This complicated things. Quentin had misjudged, bringing it up when he did; Eliot had been too close to rut to pause for logistics. He should have done better.

Okay. Okay. People went into rut or heat unexpectedly sometimes, and surely people tried to time their vacations for their cycle and missed with some regularity. There was no way they were the first people to have this problem. The ferry company probably had some kind of procedure in place for it, even. Carefully, Quentin extricated himself from Eliot's hold and went to sit at the desk, picking up the phone receiver from where it had been wedged between two suitcases. He pressed the button for 'guest services.'

A feminine voice answered. "Good morning, how may I help?"

"Um, hi," Quentin said, quiet, trying not to wake Margo or Eliot. 

"How are you today, sir?" The person on the other end had an accent, but their English was impeccably enunciated.

"Um, good." He looked over to Eliot, resisting the need to go sniff him. "Um. This is sort of, uh, awkward. Um, sort of delicate. It regards, um. Well." Would someone who didn't speak English natively even know this term? "Um. Presentational sex."

"I see, sir. Do you require immediate assistance?"

"No, no, just, um. I just have a question, I guess?"

"Very well, sir. I will answer the best that I can."

Eliot stirred on his bed. "Um. My partner just went into rut." He could feel his cheeks burning just at saying it out loud to a stranger. "He's, um, we're bonded, but like...obviously in America it's like really rude to go into a crowd in rut, so...I guess I wanted to ask like, is there any advice you can give us for when we get to the island, other than, like, make a run for the hotel as fast as possible?"

The steward, or whatever their title might be, made a considering sound. "You have all of your...faculties about you, sir?"

They were asking if Quentin was in heat. "I'm fine," he said. "At least, right now I'm fine, it's just him."

"If he is unable to be moved when we arrive in Athinios, we can offer you additional tickets to stay on the ferry at a reduced cost," they began. There was sort of a boilerplate tone to their voice, like they were rattling off information they'd had to give before. It was kind of comforting, actually. "If you feel able to move to your accommodations as arranged, we will have you disembark last. Simply stay in your cabin until someone comes to collect you. We will also contact island law enforcement, and they will send an escort to see you to your destination." 

The tone softened a little, into something reassuring, and Quentin suspected he was talking to a beta. "It is, I can say, more usual to see an alpha displaying in public in Greece than it is in America, but with foreign citizens involved, law enforcement will wish to take extra precaution. Of course I cannot make guarantees until I have spoken to them, but I think it most likely they will send one or two beta officers in uniforms to accompany you and keep you away from public transit or crowded areas. Do you think this will suffice for your and your partner's comfort?"

"That's, like, way more than I hoped for, honestly," Quentin said with a little laugh. "He's not, like...I mean, it's...um, we'll be there in like an hour, right?"

"We will be porting in approximately one hour, fifteen minutes, sir. We can expect to have you and your partner disembarking thirty to forty-five minutes after that."

"Okay, um, so two hours at the outside, yeah, he should still be able to move. So um, yeah, let's start the whole, like, contacting the island thing assuming we'll be moving? And if something changes, um, I can tell whoever comes to collect us?"

"I admire your clear-headedness, sir. I shall contact the island at once. Is there anything else I may assist you with?"

"Quentin?" Eliot called out, fuzzy with sleep.

"Um, no, he's waking up, I've got to go. Thank you so much, though."

He didn't wait for the response, hanging up and going to sit on the edge of the bed. Surely the steward would understand that his alpha needed him. "I'm here," he said.

Quentin watched Eliot wince and squeeze himself through his shorts. "Ah, it's started," he said, "I need..."

"I know," Quentin said, standing up to get his pants off. 

"Shit, I should have listened to you," Eliot said, fumbling at his belt. "About getting off the boat. _Fuck._ "

"It's okay, I just talked to someone," Quentin said, kicking his jeans aside and stilling Eliot's hands to undo his pants for him. "They're taking care of it, there's procedures for this. We'll get a beta escort to the hotel, we'll be safe."

Eliot growled and grabbed him, flipping them to pin Quentin on his back in the little twin bed. "Not safe," he growled, nosing up under Quentin's jaw. "Not 'less we're at home, in a nest."

"As safe as we can be," Quentin amended, trying not to moan too loud as Eliot sucked at a scent gland. The scent of Eliot's rut was filling his nose, crowding out all other smells, and he could feel his body responding to it, slick starting to gather at his hole. Eliot got a hand up along his inner thighs, fingers slipping and sliding against his skin. The pleased rumble went straight to Quentin's dick.

Quentin made a wounded sound as Eliot replaced those fingers with his cock. It ached a little, he was still tight, but the groan against his neck made it worth it. He let out a shaky breath and sank his hand into Eliot's curls, arching to show his throat."That feels good," he breathed against Eliot's ear. They were in kind of a shitty situation, and he felt driven to reassure. "You make me feel good."

Eliot just growled against him and started to move, making it hard to focus on anything else. Quentin held onto him, clinging tightly, and whimpered when the knot started to catch. Eliot growled again as he shoved it deep, tying them together.

"Mine," Eliot rumbled.

"Yours," Quentin sighed, and meant it.

That knotting lasted a while, and they were in the middle of a second when a chime came over the intercom, and then a voice telling passengers they could disembark. Margo got up from her bed and fled the room with her purse, leaving her bags behind and taking apparently zero note of Eliot on top of Quentin on the bed.

"She hates other alphas in rut," Eliot explained, voice soft, head resting on Quentin's shoulder. "She's not aggressive, just doesn't want to be around. Would have smelled it when she woke up."

"She left her stuff," Quentin said, struggling a little to make words through the fuzziness in his brain. 

"She knows where the hotel is, we'll see her there." Eliot stroked some hair back from Quentin's face, kissing his cheek. "Don't worry, baby boy. It's all okay."

Quentin couldn't help relaxing under him and nodding. "Okay," he agreed in a whisper. There was a tight thread of anxiety inside him, but he reminded himself that they still had at least half an hour. In a few minutes, the knot would be out, and then false heat would fade, and Quentin would be able to keep his shit together enough to shepherd Eliot to the hotel. For now, he could just lay his head back and relax, letting himself feel safe with his alpha's body over his.

~

Eliot thanked every god he could think of that the move from the boat to the hotel went smoothly. A lot of this was presumably down to a small European country that didn't want an international incident with the United States, which might conceivably happen if they fucked around with an American couple who were unexpectedly dealing with a cycle. But their escort was quiet and understanding, giving them enough space that Eliot didn't need to lash out, but staying close enough that he didn't feel exposed. Employees of the ferry moved their bags for them, too, since it was evident to everyone around that Eliot could barely stand not to have both arms around Quentin.

The police put the luggage in the trunk and the pair of them in a police car, then drove them to the hotel with the lights on. The ride was quiet, the caged-in backseat dark and protective, and Quentin allowed Eliot to press his face into his neck and breathe him in. It helped, because Quentin didn't smell upset or afraid. Eliot was learning the acid smell of his omega's anxiety, and there was only the vaguest whiff of it, like a more citrusy note to his orange smell. Not enough to register as anything to his hindbrain. What did register was the calm, light rhythm of his breathing, the arms resting gently around Eliot's back. Welcoming.

The knot was aching enough that it was hard to walk by the time they got to the hotel, but Eliot just grit his teeth and forced one foot in front of the other, focusing on the promise of Quentin's body once they were alone again. The hotel seemed to be expecting them, too, an employee -- a beta by her scent, calming, _safe_ \-- meeting them at the back door to bring them quietly up a service elevator. She assured them that their friend had checked them in already (bless Bambi) and their bags were being taken care of, that the luggage would be brought up and left at their door, for whenever they felt able to retrieve it. 

Eliot didn't really give a shit. Every item of clothing he owned could get dyed pink and sold on blankets at the beach for all he cared, if it would get him alone with Quentin faster. He let out a breath, finally, as the hotel room door shut and locked behind them. Quentin looked nearly as relieved as he felt.

Eliot practically fell on him, backing Quentin up until his shoulders hit the wall and grabbing his wrists to pin him there. A snarl rumbled in his throat as he nosed up against Quentin's neck. He knew exactly where that mating gland was, even if he couldn't have sniffed it out. He licked out over it, then sucked hard, leaving a bruise. Quentin whined and moaned and squirmed under him, thrashing against the wall as Eliot left his mark. Not a bite, never without permission, but a dark, obvious, painful bruise. Quentin wouldn't forget who owned him for the next week, and neither could anyone else.

As he let go, he caught the thread of pain in Quentin's scent. Arousal was just as thick in his scent as before, and Eliot knew how much Quentin loved to be hurt a little, but alpha brain drove him to finesse it away. "Shhhh," he soothed. "I've got you. Shhhhh." He stroked Quentin's hair, then let him up, taking a half-step back to start getting his clothes off. Quentin stripped too, without prompting from Eliot, which pleased him. It was the rightful order of things that his omega knew what to do, what was expected, and gave it to him. Presented himself for breeding.

Speaking of which. They were both naked now, and Eliot took a knee, tracing the sigils of the birth control spell over Quentin's abdomen. He placed a kiss there and glanced up. Quentin just smiled at him and nodded once, making Eliot smile back. They were good now. There was nothing else to worry about, Eliot could do whatever he wanted with Quentin for the duration. Perfect.

Eliot stood and made him turn, showing Eliot his back. He ended up in the window, looking out over the island, which was bright and gorgeous in the early afternoon sun. Eliot's body was pretty sure that it was about six in the morning and he hadn't gotten any sleep, but in Greece, it was just after noon, sun beating down on the blue roofs and whitewashed walls. They were enough floors above the ground that no one was likely to spot them in the window, but Eliot could feel Quentin stiffening anyway. He just grinned and slid himself inside, shuddering at the feeling of tight omega hole around the base of his cock, his aching knot.

"What's wrong, baby?" Eliot whispered, still grinning as he ran his hands down Quentin's arms, pinning his hands to the sides of the window. "Don't like being on display?"

"Eliot," Quentin whispered back, but Eliot just chuckled.

"You're gorgeous, baby, this whole island wishes they were lucky enough to be the ones knotting you." Eliot planted his feet far enough apart that he could thrust easily, the delicious slide making him bite his lip. "You can complain if you want, but I can feel how wet you are. You love it, baby boy." He bit the side of Quentin's neck, letting his teeth drag against the flesh, reveling in Quentin's moan. 

He let go of one of Quentin's hands to wrap that arm around his middle, squeezing him close. "Shhh, it's okay. It's too dark in here, no one can see, I promise," he whispered. He felt Quentin relax against him a bit and went back to pinning his hand.

"What happens when -- fuck, _Eliot_ \-- when you, nnh, knot me, and I go all, you know, all..."

"When you go all boneless and pretty for me?" Eliot asked, grinning against the side of his neck. "Don't worry about that, baby boy, I've got you. Just open up for me, let me get my knot in this pretty ass. God, you feel so good..." Eliot pressed his face into the side of Quentin's neck and thrust harder, letting go of Quentin's hand again to reach down and play with his cock. He thought about getting his mouth on it at least a couple of times in the next twenty-four hours, and then he stopped thinking of anything, pushing in hard and groaning as the knot swelled inside Quentin. 

Quentin was shaking and listing dangerously by the time Eliot came to, obviously fighting not to fall over. Quickly, Eliot enveloped them both with telekinesis, keeping Quentin on his feet.

"You can relax for me, sweetheart, you did so good," Eliot murmured, and he felt the shift as Quentin obeyed, his magic flexing as telekinesis worked to keep him upright. "That's right," he murmured, petting both hands down Quentin's sides. "You're so beautiful. I love-"

Eliot felt his stomach drop as he cut himself off just in time. "I love being inside you," he corrected, praying that Quentin hadn't thought about it. "I've put my knot in a lot of pretty boys, and none of them takes it as good as you."

Quentin sighed, resting back against Eliot's chest, and Eliot felt his heart thump in his chest. "I'm gonna move us to bed, okay, baby?" Eliot asked. "You don't have to do anything, you're perfect, just let me take care of you."

Quentin nodded, and he had that fuzzed-out look he got when he was just totally out of it, brain gone and replaced with primal omega hormones. Eliot kissed his cheek and levitated them both over to the bed. It was neatly made -- _that_ wasn't going to last -- so Eliot just deposited them both on top of it, on their sides, so there was no stress or pressure on either of them.

"Comfy, sweet boy?" Quentin made a vague sound that made Eliot smile. "I'll take that as a yes," he said, pressing a kiss to the back of Quentin's head. "You're a good boy. Mmm, you make my knot feel so good, pretty baby. That's it, just lay here and be so full for me. That's it," he murmured, rubbing Quentin's arm. His eyes were slipping shut as he murmured, his own body seeking rest, now that they weren't exposed and threatened on all sides. He was going to need it, if he was gonna make it through rut _and_ portal-lag.

~

When Eliot woke up, he was warm. Toasty warm, like he was under a blanket. He shifted, and felt the material slide over his skin, so clearly that was exactly it. He was not extra-body-in-the-bed warm, though, and that was a problem for his aching knot. He inhaled as he lifted his head, squinting around. "Q?"

"I'm here." Quentin's voice came from behind...a pile of pillows? "One second, I'm almost done."

"With what?" Eliot asked as he sat up, pushing the blanket down, but he realized what it was before Quentin could answer. Pillows formed walls at the edges of the bed, blankets and clothes woven in with them. Eliot looked over to see that their bags had been brought inside, and they were open, organization a wreck as select items had been pulled out. Eliot had definitely not fallen asleep with a blanket on him, but even more impressively, there were a couple of extra blankets _under_ him -- how the fuck had Q managed that without waking him?

"So, um," Quentin said, standing up and pushing his hair behind his ears. "You said earlier, um, we weren't safe, or, I guess, you wouldn't feel safe unless we were at home in a nest. I couldn't fix the home part, but..."

"You built a nest," Eliot said, looking around at it with quiet wonder. He looked over as Quentin shed the shorts he'd thrown on and climbed up into the bed with him, plopping down and pushing his hair back again.

"Um, I built a nest," he agreed, giving Eliot that squinty-eyed smile.

Eliot just stared at him for a moment. His heart was doing something complicated and strange that he didn't understand. He just knew that he didn't know how he was ever going to give Quentin up to another alpha.

"Um, do you like it?" Quentin asked, his pleased smile slowly morphing to a nervous frown.

Eliot brought a hand up, petting that stubborn strand of hair back behind his ear. "I love it, baby." Quentin's whole face lit up in a smile, and Eliot couldn't help smiling back, pulling him closer with both arms, wrapping him in a hug. "It's perfect. You made it so good, sweet boy," he murmured into Quentin's hair, kissing the top of his head.

"It's different from the one at home, um, cause it's so much warmer here than it was in, you know, February in New York, it's, um-"

"Quentin?"

He stuttered to a stop. "Yeah?"

"I don't care."

"Oh. Is it, um..." A hand snuck up the inside of Eliot's thigh.

"Mmhm," Eliot said, nodding.

"Okay," Quentin said, already breathless. "Um, where do you want me?"

~

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Eliot said.

"You're gonna be sorry for doubting me," Quentin retorted, wiggling his ass in Eliot's face.

"Seriously, though, you pull off when it starts to go." His tone was firm, not quite into alpha register, but Quentin didn't actually intend to disobey.

The sun was going down, painting the sky outside in pretty colors. They'd opened the window for a comfortable breeze, and discovered that the room door had a scent blocker built in, a simple rubber flap sealing the gap at the bottom, so they didn't have to worry about bothering anyone passing by in the hallway. Margo had gotten her bags and informed them both in no uncertain terms that they owed her, then hopped over to Mykonos for some exclusive magician-only party. _Have fun rutting yourselves stupid_ , her final text had read. Quentin, at least, fully intended to follow her directive.

The thing was, with any other dick, Quentin really was confident that he could take the knot in his mouth. Margo, for instance, or Kady, he could definitely let them tie behind his teeth and still breathe. But neither of them, as far as he knew, had Eliot's massive fucking cock, frankly, which was the real problem here. It was just too long and thick.

"Go on, then," Eliot said, bumping his hips up a little to make his dick sway. Quentin hummed and ran his tongue up the side, just saying hello. He had insisted he simply couldn't go another twenty or whatever hours without a cock down his throat, and when he'd demonstrated a modification of the gills spell that would let him breathe air, Eliot had relented.

"You really are such a slut for my cock, baby boy," Eliot murmured as Quentin wrapped his lips around it. "You want to be fucking wrecked so bad. Bad enough that you're willing to let me play with this slick little hole for as long as I want, any way I want."

"I don't see how that's in any way a bad deal for me," Quentin snarked, then bobbed his head down, taking it deep enough to nudge at his throat. He didn't have too much of a gag reflex normally, but false heat had it even more suppressed, his body just eager to be fucked any which way. He paused there to suck, halfway down, until a sharp slap to his ass made him twitch. He got the message and took it deeper, closing his eyes and focusing on making his alpha feel good.

"Good boy," Eliot purred, and Quentin felt nimble fingers rubbing at his hole, making him twitch again, arch his hips back. Eliot chuckled darkly as his fingers slid away, and Quentin would have whined if his throat weren't occupied. "Greedy," Eliot accused softly.

Instead of pulling off to argue, Quentin just swallowed hard around it, making Eliot swear before he pulled back to breathe. He played with the head for a while, licking and kissing and sucking it while he kept up a stroke with his hand, falling into an easy rhythm with Eliot fingering and licking at his ass. The rest of the world started to drop away, leaving just Quentin and Eliot and the smell of his alpha in rut, happy and content. Eliot started to stretch him more, adding more fingers, making Quentin groan softly and take him deep again.

"Quentin...Q, I'm gonna...oh fuck..."

Quentin's head was so full of cotton that he didn't even notice the swelling until he couldn't pull off, until Eliot was already groaning and pouring down his throat, his knot firmly tied between Quentin's teeth. There was no choice but to take everything Eliot gave him, the awareness that he couldn't breathe only starting to creep in at the edges. He could hear harsh breathing and muttering behind him as his brain started to realize he should be scared about this.

"Breathe, Q."

The commanding alpha rumble pierced through the worry and Quentin obeyed, drawing breath into his lungs with an odd sensation at his collarbones. He sighed with relief, realizing Eliot had cast the spell on him. He held a hand out to the side and gave a thumbs up, letting Eliot know it had worked.

Eliot laughed. "Fuck," he sighed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have expected you to keep your wits when I'm in rut. You're all up in that scent, of course your brain's gonna go."

Quentin couldn't speak or make noise, but he sucked on the knot in his mouth, moving his tongue against it to try to communicate that it was okay.

"Mmm, it does feel fucking amazing, though. I'm so lucky, baby," Eliot sighed, slipping three fingers back into Quentin's hole. "So lucky you let me do this to you. God, I bet I could get my whole hand in you."

Quentin sucked hard, feeling his prick twitch between his legs.

Eliot chuckled. "Yeah? You want that? Give me a thumbs up, baby."

Quentin accidentally forced himself deeper by putting both hands out quickly for an eager two-thumbs-up. He got his elbows under himself again, so he had some modicum of control over the cock in his mouth. Eliot was working a fourth finger in, making him shiver at the stretch.

"I bet you can do it," Eliot purred. "Your hole is so needy and hungry, all the time. Even when you're not in heat, sweetheart, you always want my cock inside you. I love how much you love it."

Sinking into the warm fog of sympathetic heat again, Quentin crossed his arms over Eliot's thighs and rested his forehead against them, keeping himself at a comfortable level on the knot but no longer having to work so hard for it. He let his tongue push out against the knot occasionally, but otherwise let himself rest. 

It still felt as good as he'd always thought it would to get his mouth knotted.

"Open up for me, baby," Eliot purred. "Come on, let me in, you feel so good. I want to get my hand inside you so bad, sweet boy. Open up for your alpha."

A shiver ran through Quentin's body. Maybe he was being a gross heat fetishist again, but it made him throb to hear those words. He squeezed Eliot's leg in lieu of making a noise and pushed his hips back a little, encouraging it as Eliot spread his fingers inside. 

"That's it. You're so good." Quentin squirmed, feeling the knot starting to shrink in his mouth. He'd have whimpered if he could. "Tell you what," Eliot said. "If I can get my hand in you by the time the knot deflates, good, but if not, we'll try again later. Sound good, baby boy?"

Quentin gave another thumbs up, then settled in again, just breathing and relaxing, trying to take it. He was feeling the stretch, it hurt a little, but Eliot was being gentle with him, giving him time to open up. The stretch at both ends felt so good, his jaw aching as his hole protested. Quentin didn't even really notice the knot slipping out until Eliot's cock fell out of his slack mouth entirely.

"No? That's okay, baby boy," Eliot purred, kissing the back of Quentin's thigh and withdrawing his fingers, making him whine. "Plenty of time, baby," Eliot laughed. "Now that I know you want my hand in you, you're _definitely_ going to get it. Don't you worry. Now, how about you settle back here and let Daddy make you feel good, hmm?" Quentin didn't have to wonder what he meant as Eliot's tongue drew over his hole again right after, making him whine and arch back.

~

The spell wore off on its own when Eliot took a brief nap, and Quentin thought about getting up to get food and water, arrange things for their comfort. But looking at the nest he'd built himself and Eliot, he found himself staying, snuggling down under a blanket with him, leeching off his alpha body heat in the cool room. It was mid-March, technically still winter, after all, and the window was cracked so the scent didn't get too thick in here. Quentin was drifting before he could even think about it.

He didn't make it all the way to sleep before he woke with a hand around his throat. He tensed for a moment, startled, then realized it was just Eliot, and those fingers were just gripping, not hurting or cutting off air. Quentin relaxed immediately, leaned a little weight into that hand to let Eliot know it felt good.

"Good boy," Eliot rumbled, giving him a little squeeze, then pulling him up to have his forehead kissed. "Show me how you want to be knotted, baby boy."

Eliot let go of him, and Quentin moved, getting on his elbows and knees to present in the classic position. He put his head down on his hands, a sign of relaxation and submission. His trust in Eliot was complete.

"Such a good boy," Eliot murmured, getting up on his knees behind him. Quentin heard the soft, rhythmic rasp of skin against skin for a moment as Eliot prepared himself, then the blunt head pressing at his wet hole. "Good boy, taking Daddy's cock. Gonna make Daddy's knot feel good, baby? Yeah you are," he murmured, seemingly needing no contribution from Quentin. He just made a soft sound when the head of Eliot's cock slipped inside him, making his toes curl. He panted as Eliot rocked deeper into him, an inch at a time, working him open so well.

"Never gonna let you go," Eliot was breathing behind him, bending over him and planting a hand on the headboard of the bed. "Don't wanna lose this...you take it so good..." 

Quentin exhaled, letting himself open more for Eliot's dick, and reached up to put a hand on his forearm. He squeezed as Eliot started to thrust, short, sharp jerks against the meat of Quentin's ass that kept him buried deep inside. 

"So good," Eliot was murmuring, still breathless. "So goddamn good."

Quentin felt his eyes sting with unbidden tears at the reminder that that was all it was. He was a good fuck, or at least, a compatible fuck for Eliot. If Eliot wanted to keep him, it was just for that, because he'd made clear that he never intended any kind of claim. It had been Quentin driving every change in their relationship since. It didn't mean Eliot really wanted him. Not in the long term.

Quentin reached back with his free hand and grabbed one cheek, pulling it open to spread himself, encouraging Eliot to fuck deeper. Eliot growled and took the invitation, making Quentin cry out against the bed.

"Want the knot, baby boy?" he growled.

"Yeah," Quentin moaned, nodding. "Yeah, knot me, please."

"Beg for it," Eliot rumbled, Quentin feeling the telltale catch.

"Please knot me, please, want you to knot and stretch me so bad, it's so big, want-mmph!" Quentin buried his needy cry in the bed as the knot caught inside him, yanking as Eliot tried to withdraw again, then settled pressed against him, letting Quentin feel the thick intrusion, letting his body clench down on it. Quentin sighed and went pliant, making a soft little noise as his relaxation made the knot tug. 

"You make me feel so good," Quentin murmured, not even sure if he was coherent, if Eliot would understand him, but wanting to try. Eliot always talked to him, told him how good he was, he needed Eliot to know he was just as good. "Ever since the first time, god. I always, ngh, forget h-how good, or, or I tell myself it can't be like I remember it, but then, but then you fucking, you fill me up and you...god, Eliot, I can't, I can't even, I can't even tell you how...how good..."

Eliot stroked a hand over his back. "You're doing so good, baby," he murmured, his voice overflowing with fondness. "You don't have to talk anymore if you don't want. It's so pretty how you just go limp for me when you get knotted, you're such a good boy."

"I wanna," Quentin insisted. "Wanna tell you...how good..."

Eliot kissed up his neck, then pressed his lips to his ear. "Why don't you tell me how big it feels, baby?" he cooed, grinding his hips in a circle to make Quentin feel it, make him muffle a cry in the bed. "Tell me how good it stretches you."

"S-so good," Quentin moaned, sure he'd be shaking if he weren't still limp. "I kn-know I can take your fist, cause, cause your knot must be that size and I take it and it feels so fucking good...I know I'm supposed to be, mmh, woke, and n-not, not care about size cause it doesn't mean anything, but I, I want it to stretch me, I want it to h-hurt a little and it does, it feels so good, _Eliot_..."

Eliot reached around under him to stroke Quentin's cock, which honestly didn't feel like all that much right now, but the thought of it, the fact that Eliot wanted to give him pleasure, had him moaning. "You want Daddy's hand so bad, don't you, baby? Tell me," he murmured.

"I do, I want it," Quentin moaned, his voice going higher-pitched and needy. "It's gonna feel so f-fucking good, I w-want your hand, please, please, please fist me, I want it so bad please please..."

"I will, baby," Eliot promised, low and sure. "I'm gonna give it to you. Come for Daddy, baby, let me feel this pretty hole make my knot feel so good."

Quentin cried out against the bed again and came, thighs shaking as his hole clenched hard, pulling Eliot's knot ever-deeper inside him. Eliot groaned behind him, hips bucking like he was trying to shove it in further, like they weren't already as close as it was possible to be. As Quentin shook through the aftershocks, Eliot grunted, and then the knot slipped free, leaving him achingly empty but satisfied. A brief fantasy flitted through Quentin's mind, of being in heat and waiting until the cramps had started to get Eliot inside him, how fucking good that relief would feel. The pain and distress of being empty for so long wouldn't be worth it, but in his mind, he could ignore that part.

Eliot kissed his shoulder roughly and then flopped over onto his side with a sigh. Quentin let himself fall the same direction, inviting Eliot to snuggle up behind him, and he was gratified when Eliot took the offer. Another kiss to the back of his shoulder, an arm around his waist, Eliot's thighs snuggled up under his. 

"Feel good, baby boy?" Eliot asked, kissing up the back of his neck. Quentin nodded. "Good," he murmured, settling in. "I want to make you feel good, always." He shifted a little and sighed, nose pressed into Quentin's hair. "I want you to feel good and safe and cared for with me," he murmured, almost too quiet to hear.

Quentin tried without success to swallow the lump in his throat. "I do," he said softly, putting a hand over Eliot's on his waist and squeezing gently. "I do feel that."

"Good." Eliot gave him a gentle squeeze back. "Try to sleep, okay, baby boy? We still need rest."

~

When Quentin woke from his nap, it was to Eliot's head between his legs.

"Hi baby," he murmured, voice thick and rumbling, alpha-growly. "You smell so good."

Quentin let his head fall back against the pillows he rested on and brought a hand down to stroke over Eliot's hair, still trying to get his brain to wake up and get with the program. "Eliot," he breathed out in a sigh, letting his fingers tighten to grip a little as Eliot kissed down alongside his cock, just shy of touching it.

"Relax, baby boy," Eliot rumbled up at him, then licked right up into his hole, making Quentin gasp.

"Eliot," he said again, this time on a breathy moan, as Eliot thrust his tongue deep, like he was trying to search out Quentin's soul. He withdrew with a sucking kiss only to thrust it in again, forcing a desperate noise out of Quentin.

He could feel himself getting wet, his body responding to pleasure and a horny alpha. He gripped harder as Eliot fucked into him with his tongue, shooting fire along his nerves. Quentin was hard now, not sure when that had happened. Eliot didn't seem to care, his massive hands coming to press to Quentin’s cheeks and spread him open more -- Quentin's knees had gotten hooked over his shoulders at some point -- so he could get deeper, every press and thrust and lick making Quentin's thighs twitch.

"Eliot," he breathed once more, and Eliot slid two fingers inside him, curving them to press relentlessly at his prostate. He came up, face wet, and only glanced up at Quentin before swallowing his cock, making him whine. Quentin didn't stand a chance, tugging hard at Eliot's hair while he came down his throat, a weak dribble that Eliot swallowed easily, then withdrew his fingers and crawled upwards. Quentin winced at the emptiness, false heat and a recent orgasm making it almost hurt.

"Shhh, I've got you," Eliot whispered, and pushed inside him, making Quentin sigh happily. Only a few thrusts and he grunted, shoving in deep as the knot blew, hips still pushing like he wanted to crawl inside Quentin, just like with his tongue.

"You can sleep again, baby," Eliot whispered, and kissed Quentin, letting him taste his own slick. He was already rolling them to the side, comfortable, so Quentin shivered a little and tucked himself down against Eliot's chest. Having never really woken up enough to want anything else, he let the wonderful stretch inside him and the safety of his nest lull him back to sleep.

~

"Take your time, baby," Eliot rumbled as Quentin climbed into position again. "We'll get there."

They'd made it through the night napping and fucking on and off, Quentin sleepily fixing bits of the nest that they fucked up as needed. The sun was coming up now, rut was probably nearly over, and even though sympathetic heat had faded enough for Quentin to just be mortally embarrassed by everything they'd been saying, he was still shamefully hot for Eliot's fist. They'd already done the spell to let him breathe, since they were doing it on purpose this time, so Quentin was able to take his cock right down to the root and swallow around it, then take a deep breath. 

"God, I said, fuck, take your _time_ ," Eliot said, choking out a laugh. Quentin just swallowed on it, working it with his throat in a clear answer to that idea. "Fuck, baby boy," Eliot breathed out, rubbing both hands over Quentin's ass, giving him a cursory swat just to make him twitch a little.

Quentin reached under to stroke his cock, but Eliot smacked his hand away. It made him choke, because, right, laughing with a dick in his throat didn't actually work, even if he could still breathe. Eliot just smacked his ass again, then slid three fingers into him, easy as anything.

"Mmm, so pretty how you just open up and take me," Eliot murmured, leaning in to press an openmouthed kiss against one cheek. "You want Daddy's hand so bad, huh? I'm gonna let you make me come first, though. You want that? To take Daddy's hand while you've got his knot in your mouth, coming down your throat?" Eliot laughed delightedly as if he'd suddenly had a thought. "I should get Margo in here, hmm? Get _two_ knots in you, that'd really get you going."

Quentin let out a conflicted whine. Two knots would definitely get him going, but the thought of inviting another alpha into his nest, untested and potentially dangerous, put a knot of fear in his stomach. He pulled off to give himself a moment to breathe normally, stroking it with his hand instead.

"Maybe another time, hmm? Honestly, I couldn't stand not having you all to myself." A fourth finger began to stretch him, and Quentin made a soft noise before going back down, sucking eagerly. He didn't fight the dreamy, drifty feeling overtaking him, gentling his nervous brain down into somewhere soft and distant. Eliot continued talking, but the words didn't matter so much as his voice and his plans. 

Everything was so quiet in his head that it came as a bit of a surprise when Eliot gasped and bucked up against his face. Obedient and content, Quentin swallowed his cock and tightened his lips around the base, around the knot he could start to feel. It forced him down a little more as it swelled up behind his teeth, pulling him in, making him ache for a moment before he relaxed. He was definitely learning how to adjust to the knot and take it comfortably. Quentin shivered a little, remembering how badly he'd wanted it and how much he'd fantasized about it when the year started. The reality was very nearly as good as his fantasy.

"We're almost there, baby," Eliot said, breathless, and sounding like he was coming from very far away, like the surface of a deep pool Quentin was at the bottom of. "You're taking it so pretty, baby boy, you're so good. You can do it, I know you can, take a deep breath."

Instinct made him want to obey the order, so he did, taking a deep, relaxing breath. His hole hurt for a moment, making him flinch, then eased. Had Eliot pulled back, taken it out?

"You did it, baby," Eliot said, and Quentin could hear him grinning. "You took Daddy's whole hand, you're such a good boy."

Eliot shifted it, and Quentin jerked. He could feel it now, it wasn't that much of a stretch at his hole, after all that work, but he was definitely still open around something, stretched by something. He clenched experimentally and would have cried out if his vocal cords were free, shaking a little at the stretch, the _size_. He could feel the same stretch inside, too, as natural as any knot, a pleasant, solid swell to lock happily onto.

"Feels good, baby?" Eliot murmured. "Yeah, I know it does. You took it so well for me, you make Daddy feel so good."

Quentin sucked on the knot with purpose, needing some way to express how good it was. Eliot growled under him, sending a thrill down his spine. It made him clench again, setting off a shiver in a delightful feedback loop of sensation.

"Aren't you so glad you trusted Daddy, baby?" Eliot rumbled, making Quentin's thighs twitch. "I told you you could take it for me."

Quentin arched his hips back, fucking back onto that hand a little, and jerked again at the friction, sparking deliciously along his nerves. Eliot just chuckled and started to fuck him with it. He didn't move much, maybe an inch, but it was just enough for Quentin to feel the slide and rub. 

"Look at you," Eliot murmured. "You're fucking wrecked, baby. You took my whole hand and you know what? You can't undo it. You'll always be the slutty omega who took a whole fist up his needy hole, and I'll always be the first who gave it to you. Forever."

Quentin closed his eyes and came harder than he ever had in his life. He'd been so sure he couldn't come like this, that Eliot's hand and wrist were just too big, but it barely hurt at all. He could feel his thighs quivering as he came down the other side, his hole now empty and fluttering as Eliot's wet fingers rubbed at it, keeping him feeling good.

"Good boy," Eliot murmured. "God, you're such a good boy. You're so fucking hot, Quentin. I'm so glad you're here with me."

Quentin clenched onto nothing and arched his hips back with a shiver. Eliot laughed softly and slipped three fingers into him. "It's okay, baby, I've got you. I'll keep you full, don't worry. I've got you."

~

Since they had nowhere in particular to be, they took their sweet time recovering and didn't emerge until the next day, living on room service and the pleasure of each others' company. Eliot got the story from Quentin on how they'd gotten to the hotel from the ferry -- he more or less remembered, but was fuzzy on the details. It was also cute how Quentin was trying not to climb the walls with how horny he still was, how bad he wanted something inside him. Not an uncommon aftereffect of getting fisted for the first time, really, the arousal of discovering your body could do something you didn't think possible, especially when that something was _really_ hot. Fortunately, Eliot was anything but a light packer, and had a few toys and some lube to keep his pretty boy's hole happy whenever his dick was temporarily out of commission.

By the morning of the next day, Quentin was mostly down to normal levels of antsy-horny, but Eliot kept a casual arm slung around his shoulders as they left their room. "I promise to fuck you as hard as you want tonight, baby boy," he was murmuring against Quentin's temple as the elevator doors opened. He grinned at Quentin's blush and gave the side of his head a kiss as they walked out to where Bambi was waiting in the lobby.

"Ugh, gag me," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "You two cockmongers ready to do something actually fun or what? We're going to the wine museum, Mama needs to be drunk to deal with all this," she said, making a general gesture to the both of them.

"I think we can get into that," Eliot said easily and gave Quentin a squeeze around the shoulders, just to see Margo roll her eyes again.


	5. i need you now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it! This is the last chapter, except for the epilogue, which I'll probably post on Saturday or so, since it's shorter. Also, all the feelings are in this chapter. All of them. The whole fic's worth. Get a tissue right now.
> 
> As always, thank you to redtoblack and punkfistfights for beta services, and stormcoming for cheer reading!

Everyone on campus was going fucking insane.

A group of hedge witches had launched an assault on the Brakebills wards, led by some expulsion sob story. This was bad enough, but finals were coming up, and that was a big deal even under normal circumstances. Almost every class in every year lost _someone_ to failed finals, and after seeing how that could turn out...well, really it just had Eliot questioning Brakebills' suitability as a educational institution for the umpteenth time, but almost everyone on campus was losing it in some way unique to their designation. 

If you needed to patrol the edge of the wards with other alphas, an unofficial meetup spot had formed near the PA building, and professors were starting to join in too. There was also an unspoken rule that if you needed to fight another alpha, you took it away from people, somewhere at least nominally isolated -- this prevented other alphas joining the fray, betas getting hurt trying to break it up, and omegas getting too stressed out or excited. It was more common than usual to find piles of omegas cuddling or clinging to each other in dark corners, sometimes with some kind of drug involved, but often just breathing together, making safety where they needed it. Honestly, Eliot had indulged himself a few times by casually sitting by and smoking, guarding these puppy piles until they broke up without making a thing of it. Even the betas were being a little more beta than usual, more conciliatory, more eager to help and provide.

Like, this was all definitely because it was a pretty small community, with the capped freshman class size and numbers dwindling as time went on. A larger, less isolated community would probably have found equilibrium again faster. That was the other thing -- few people spoke regularly to non-Brakebills family or friends or left campus for more than a few hours, so everyone was marinating in everyone else's stress pheromones 24/7. 

Nevermind that Eliot's personal insanity had pre-dated the attack. The roiling collective ball of stress had given him an excuse and that was what mattered.

Neither of them were even pretending that Quentin didn't sleep here now. Surely at the start of next school year they'd settle back into their own rooms, but right now, Eliot was pretty happy to smile and lift up the covers for Quentin to join him every night when he'd finished studying. Quentin really only went back to his room to change clothes and shower at this point.

And okay, _yes_ , Eliot could admit that this was because he had feelings. But everything he'd said to Margo was still true. Quentin didn't want him that way, he only wanted Eliot to help him with those things he needed an alpha for. Lately, that happened to include needing an alpha body close so he could sleep. That wasn't the same thing as wanting _him_. 

"Anything exciting today?" he asked, shifting so Quentin could settle into the crook of his arm.

"Alice pulled me into another puppy pile," he said with a little smile, settling down against Eliot. "I keep telling her she can just go and settle in with one without me but I think she's still shy about it." 

They were intimately close, hearts mere inches from each other, and Eliot could practically feel his alpha instincts purring and curling up. This was the ideal, his omega close where Eliot could protect him. "Well, she hasn't gotten as comfortable as you, baby boy," Eliot said, brushing a strand of hair back from his face. It was getting long. "At risk of sounding like your youth pastor, I've gotten to watch you really blossom over this last year? You've settled in here, you're in your element, and it's really nice to see."

"Only cause of you," Quentin said, poking him lightly in the side. "Socially adjusting is a lot easier when you've been adopted by the literal, like, cock of the walk."

Eliot rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help smiling as he leaned in for a kiss. Quentin kissed back, but broke it after a moment by yawning in Eliot's face.

"Guess I should be letting you sleep, huh?" Eliot asked, unable to keep the affection from his expression.

"Guess so," Quentin agreed, covering a second yawn. "Unless you want me puking in your bed."

Eliot frowned. "Is that still happening?"

Quentin nodded. "I still think it might be some kind of food sensitivity? But I definitely think it's more associated with tiredness than food, now, so I'm not sure." He was rolling and shifting as he spoke, nestling down in bed, and Eliot snuggled down with him.

"Have you seen Lipson?"

"She's got enough on her hands patching people up from fights and giving out sedatives," Quentin murmured against his arm, sleepy. "S'only happened a few times anyway."

"Even with the amount I drink, a few times is more than I've thrown up in like, five years," Eliot said, knowing worry was pinching his brow. "But I trust your judgement." Even if he wanted to pick Quentin up and carry him to the infirmary right now.

"I'll figure it out," Quentin murmured. "If I can't by the time finals are over I'll see Lipson before I go home, 'kay?"

"Okay, baby boy," Eliot said, kissing his forehead. "Sleep well."

~

Quentin was used to waking up still tired -- not just sleepy, but _tired_ , his sleep quality was just garbage a lot of the time, tossing and turning all night. But since he'd started sleeping in Eliot's bed, giving up on the pretense of using his own, he'd slept so much better. Maybe there was something to this alpha-seeking instinct.

So he woke up just sleepy, not tired, and much more importantly, with Eliot hard against his ass. Quentin lifted his head to peer at the alarm clock, decided he had time, and squirmed back against it, biting his lip as he rubbed on it with intent. Eliot's growl was sleepy, but he was with it enough to bite at Quentin's neck, the arm over his waist turning to an iron-hard grip, holding Quentin in place so Eliot could do the grinding.

"Little slut," Eliot murmured, making Quentin shiver.

"Yeah," he murmured back. "So you gonna fuck me or what?"

The arms around his waist withdrew, only for Eliot's hand to come down hard on his ass, making Quentin gasp. Eliot pulled back enough to yank his pants down his hips, exposing him, then turned away. Quentin could hear the drawer opening where the lube was kept. He was in the process of squirming his pants and boxers down further, around his knees, when Eliot stopped moving behind him. 

"What?" Quentin asked, slightly breathless.

"That's..." Eliot leaned into his neck, inhaling, then pulled back again. "Um." Eliot took Quentin's hand and moved it back behind himself, toward his ass.

Figuring Eliot just wanted a show, Quentin rolled a little bit toward his stomach and rubbed at himself. He sighed happily as a finger slid in easily.

"Q, baby, you're wet," Eliot pointed out.

"Yeah," Quentin sighed, smiling, then paused. "Oh. Uh."

"You don't smell like heat or pre-heat," Eliot said slowly, obviously perplexed.

Quentin spent approximately two seconds deciding how much he cared about this, and concluded that the answer was 'not very much.' He just sighed and started pressing a second finger in. "Well, maybe I will by tonight," he said. "Can we focus?"

Eliot let out a rough chuckle. "Yeah, okay." He pressed up against Quentin's back again, pushing his hand away. "Tell me you want it," Eliot whispered, lips pressed to his ear and then kissing over his neck.

"I want it," Quentin breathed, gasping as Eliot's fingers breached him. "I want it, want your cock, give it to me."

"So _greedy_ ," Eliot purred, biting his neck. 

"Just the way you like me," Quentin said with a grin.

Eliot pushed him forward a little, making him roll toward his stomach again, and a wave of nausea rolled over him, then passed just as quickly. Quentin took a deep breath and focused on how those fingers felt inside him. In short order they were gone, and Quentin could feel the warm, blunt head of Eliot's cock pushing at him, encouraging him to open.

"Take it for me, baby, that's it," Eliot murmured, apparently still sleep-fuzzy and not controlling his words too closely, because -- "Take Daddy's cock, you're so good."

Quentin shivered, because it was definitely weird that the more Eliot called himself Daddy, the more Quentin got into it. It was just, like, a Pavlovian response at this point, right? Because Eliot always did it mid-fuck when Quentin was feeling really good? That had to be all it was, classical conditioning, he didn't _actually_ have a daddy kink.

Eliot bottomed out inside him, distracting Quentin with the almost-painful pressure in his abdomen, and he turned his head to groan into the pillow, legs still trapped in his pajama pants so he couldn't spread them. "Yeah, fuck me, god," he babbled, shivering and pushing his hips back as Eliot started to withdraw, giving him that delicious friction.

"You feel so good," Eliot breathed against him. "Fuck, baby, you're so hot...you're so wet for me, you feel so good..."

Quentin gasped into the pillow and got a noseful of Eliot's laundry detergent, which brought another wave of nausea. Quentin just turned his face up toward the ceiling and took a few more deep breaths, trying to ease it away.

Eliot appeared in his view and kissed him, thrusting his tongue into Quentin's mouth as he fucked him in a way that made Quentin moan. The hand on Quentin's hip slid down and around to grab his cock and stroke it, a much more effective endeavor when he wasn't in heat.

"Feel good, baby?" Eliot murmured, his breath puffing out across Quentin's mouth and nose. It wasn't that it smelled _bad_ , Eliot's morning breath was definitely earning a solid B, but there was just A Scent to it and before Quentin could process anything else he pulled away from Eliot, nearly falling off the bed and then staggering into the bathroom with his pants still around his thighs. He did, at least, make it to the toilet.

When Quentin looked up, Eliot was in the doorway, a sheet gathered around his hips like a towel, face pinched with concern. Quentin rested his flushed face on the seat and sighed. "Sorry," he said. "I can still blow you if you want."

Eliot's look of concern turned to one of mixed hilarity and pity, like Quentin was a cat who'd just fallen into a bathtub. "No offense, baby, but you literally could not offer me anything less appealing right now." He came into the bathroom and picked up a washcloth from the shelf, wetting it in the sink.

"That's fair," Quentin said sadly, taking it as it was handed to him.

"I really am worried," Eliot said, watching him wipe his face and scrub at his tongue. "This doesn't seem normal, sweetheart."

Quentin sighed and rested the cloth on the back of his neck, closing his eyes. "You might be right. I've got stuff to do today but I'll try and get to the infirmary."

"Okay," Eliot agreed, bending to kiss the top of Quentin's head. "If I'm free I can come with you."

"Thanks Dad," Quentin deadpanned. Eliot rolled his eyes and swatted at his shoulder, but he was smiling. Quentin couldn't help smiling back up at him. Man, he was fucked.

~

Quentin didn't make it to the infirmary that day, or the next day. He also didn't start pre-heat, but honestly, that was for the best, with finals so near. He was studying in his room with Julia, or trying, when Thursday afternoon rolled around.

Julia closed the book she'd been reading from with a sigh and pushed it away, rubbing both eyes. "I cannot read this any longer. In fact, I can't read. I'm illiterate now."

"Big mood," Quentin agreed with a sigh, pushing his own book away. "Honestly I can't concentrate anyway, I'm fucking nauseous again."

She made a sympathetic noise. "Hey, aren't you due for a heat?" Julia asked, frowning in his direction. "Your last one was early February."

It was late May. "Huh, guess so," Quentin agreed. "I mean, you know I skip occasionally. if anything'll do it it's finals stress."

Julia narrowed her eyes, tilting her head a little. "I mean, sure, but finals stress was still pretty distant two or three weeks ago. I don't see it making you skip."

"Well, I was feeling sick sometimes by then," Quentin said with a sigh. "Maybe it's whatever that is."

"Tired and pukey, right?"

Quentin nodded, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Related to weird smells or being tired, it seems like. Which makes the extra tiredness symptom super convenient. I think I'll get heat soon, though? Uh, TMI maybe, but I got wet the other morning with Eliot, so like. Delayed, but probably gonna happen."

"Okay," Julia said reasonably. "When was Eliot's last rut? Has he had one since February?"

"Yeah, in March," Quentin said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Over Spring break." He yawned again. Seriously, the exhaustion was probably the most annoying part of this. 

"And now, about ten, eleven weeks later, your vent is open for some reason, but without an actual heat."

Quentin blinked at her, uncomprehending, while she just raised her eyebrows at him, waiting for the penny to drop. 

"Oh fuck," he breathed. "That's...oh fuck, I, um..."

"It might not be that," Julia said, standing quickly and making a soothing motion. "Maybe you do just have a new allergy or something, and it's tiring you out. I just wanted to make sure the possibility occurred to you."

Quentin took a couple of counted breaths, like he'd learned in therapy. Julia put a hand on his shoulder, gently bringing her scent near to help, and waited patiently. The spike of anxiety was easing as his rational mind kicked in and reminded him how unlikely this possibility was.

"We use a birth control spell," Quentin said, shaking his head a little. "I mean, it's...like it's supposed to be totally foolproof."

 _If you actually do it,_ said a little voice in his mind, recalling how quickly Eliot's rut had hit on the ferry. Eliot had cast the spell once they were on the island, but they'd had sex twice on the boat. He hadn't thought too much of it at the time, half forgotten about it, because it was harder to get pregnant in sympathetic heat. Not impossible, though.

"It is," Julia agreed, nodding. "But, you know, I don't know what they teach omega boys, but beta girls are taught that anytime two people have sex in a way that can get someone pregnant, and weird stuff starts happening, it doesn't hurt to take a test."

"Right." Quentin nodded. That made sense. "Right, okay. You're right, it doesn't hurt anything. What do they cost, like, five bucks? Yeah. Okay, yes."

"I have one you can use," Julia said, nodding. "For some reason they come in two-packs a lot, so I've got a spare."

He frowned up at her. "When did you take one?"

Julia shrugged. "I was late a couple months ago. I think it was just stress from midterms. I didn't tell you because it _wasn't a big deal_ ," she said, pre-empting his next question, "because I noticed and took a test, and it was negative, so I knew it was nothing major."

Julia was treating this like a basic errand, no more dramatic than buying a new bottle of shampoo, and it was helpful. Quentin nodded. "Okay. I can use the one you have?" he asked. "Like I mean, it works for male omegas?"

"The hormone's the same, Q," she said with a smile. "Come on, come to the attic and we'll do it there."

It wasn't, like, a bad idea to be somewhere else, just in case it was positive and he needed to freak out, so Quentin nodded. "Okay. Yeah. Um, can we go now?"

~

"Fuck."

The rest of Quentin's vision was whiting out. He was standing in Julia's bathroom and all he could see was a blue plus sign.

" _Fuck._ "

"Okay," Julia said, rubbing his arm. "So, now we know. And now we can figure out what to do about it." She put her other hand on his other shoulder, trying to turn him and guide him back out of the bathroom. Quentin started to go with her, then turned and lurched back inside, hitting his knees on the floor and pushing the lid of the toilet up. Julia was there, kneeling next to him and holding his hair back by the time he threw up.

He heaved twice more after his stomach was empty before his body seemed to realize he had nothing more to give. From how weak and shaky he felt, this definitely seemed like panic-attack-puking moreso than mysterious-illness-puking.

Oh god, except it wasn't mysterious at all, it was fucking _morning sickness_. Quentin breathed through the urge to heave again while Julia hugged him tightly, giving him as much compression as she could manage with her smaller frame.

Okay, compression, yes. This sparked an idea in Quentin, an action he could take. "Um, is there anything with space under it in your room?" he asked, voice weaker than he wanted it to be.

"Desk?" she offered, still hugging him. "It's enclosed on three sides."

"Perfect." Julia let go and Quentin rose, dragging her blanket and two of her pillows off the bed and heading for the desk. He threw the pillows underneath and quickly folded the blanket in half, tossing it over the desk so it hid the space from view. He weighed it down at the corners with books, then crawled under, sitting on one pillow and hugging the other tightly in his arms.

It wasn't much, as nests went, but it let him exhale and close his eyes, the panic starting to recede. Dark. Enclosed. Defensible. Safe.

Julia pulled the chair away so the blanket fell straight, and a moment later was poking her head under it, crawling in with him. It was a little rude, coming in uninvited, but it wasn't like this was any kind of real den, so he leaned against her as she settled with him, just breathing in her scent. Fresh and calming, sharp in the way nature sometimes could be. 

"So I think, first thing, we should go to the infirmary," Julia said softly. "Make sure it's real. Tests can be wrong, you know?"

"Do you really think there's any chance it isn't real?" Quentin asked, looking down at her.

Her mouth twisted to the side in that way it had been doing since they were twelve. "No," she admitted softly. "But it's the next step, and whatever you decide to do next is going to involve medical care no matter what. So you might as well loop Lipson in and hear about your options."

"I mean, I know my options, don't I?" Quentin said, letting his head roll back against the wall. "We've all heard about the options since we were like, ten. Keep it, adopt it out, or get rid of it."

"Sure," Julia agreed. "But you don't know what all of those look like, right? You know, in the Brakebills context. You can't be the first person to get pregnant on this campus, Q, they've got to have plans for this."

Quentin scoffed. "Yeah, sure, like wiping my memory and turning me and my baby out on the street. My...fetus," he corrected.

"Quentin, omega rights _have_ actually advanced since the 1970s," she said, with that tone of voice like she thought he was being silly and she knew better. It rankled slightly. "Let's just go, okay? If nothing else, maybe there's a potion for morning sickness."

That finally got Quentin's attention. "Okay, just...can we just stay here a minute longer? We'll go in a bit, I promise."

"Of course," Julia said, wrapping her hands around his arm and nestling in close. "I'm right here."

~

"I mean, campus is just a home base, really," Eliot said, flipping through his closet. "We're free to wander wherever sounds fun. As long as we spend a couple hours every week in the library, looking for thesis topics, I don't think anyone's going to bother us."

"No, and we're not even the only ones staying over the summer," Margo agreed, sorting through a drawer of ties. "Toss?" she asked, holding one up.

"Ugh, yes." Eliot watched it unroll in the air as Margo tossed it at the portal to a pocket dimension they'd created, which one of them could empty into a trash can or a volcano (ideally a volcano) later. "Have you thought about your thesis at all yet?" he asked, turning back to his closet.

"A little," Margo said casually. "Thinking vaguely about the borders between nature and physical magic when we get to elemental disciplines. What's actually the difference between me or Alice and a tree-fucker who does something with water or sunlight?"

"Valid," Eliot agreed, nodding placidly. "I'm probably expected to do something with telekinesis, but I don't know. I move shit. I don't even do it that often. There's got to be something way more interesting I could study."

"You could dig into some of the spells at Encanto Oculto. The stuff to make sure the party runs smoothly. That's definitely more your thing."

"Ooh," Eliot said, intrigued. He tossed a pair of pants toward the portal -- what was he _thinking_ with that pleated front? -- and tapped his chin, considering. "I've definitely thought a lot about places I think Encanto could improve on. I don't know how groundbreaking any of it would be, but it would get me through without dying of boredom."

"Cs get degrees, baby," Margo said. "Speaking of Encanto, can we please think about the regalo before the last minute this year?"

"We will," Eliot agreed with a smile. "Not that my invite won't be a gift in and of himself."

"Really? You're going _there_?"

"I think he's gonna surprise you, Bambi," Eliot said, smile spreading to a grin. "I tell you it's always the quiet ones. He is _shockingly_ filthy."

"Are you gonna be able to handle seeing him with other people?" Margo asked, looking skeptical. "You can spare me the in-a-friend-way bullshit, I don't give a shit, I just know how you get with any O in your path."

"I mean, if not I can just avoid him when we're not in the villa. Make sure I give him space." Eliot shrugged. "I'm not saying alpha brain's gonna like it, but my knot doesn't run my life."

"Well, as long as he's not in heat or near it. You know that shit isn't allowed at Encanto. Didn't he get one in November?"

"Yeah," Eliot agreed, then frowned. "Actually, he's overdue now. He should have had one in the last couple of weeks, I'm pretty sure. And he had a symptom the other day, but didn't smell like it, and still doesn't."

"Hmm," Margo said, in a tone that suggested mild interest, but not really caring. "I'm sure he's just delayed from finals stress, it'll probably hit right before he leaves for Rhode Island or wherever the fuck."

"New Jersey," Eliot corrected absently, frowning. Something about this was niggling at him, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Ah well, maybe he was just disappointed he hadn't gotten to fuck Quentin in heat lately. If he couldn't figure it out it probably wasn't important. He turned back to the closet. "Anyway, yes, I know the rules about heat and rut. I won't bring him if he's near or due."

"Good, cause if I get kicked out for _your_ omega I'm gonna cut a dick off someone, and you won't like who I pick."

~

"Well, you're pregnant."

Lipson had an odd tool with several different colored lenses, which she could shift around to combine and look through. She lowered it from where it was pointed at Quentin's abdomen.

"You have a bonded partner on file, he's the father, right? No judgment, just worth asking to avoid drama."

Quentin nodded, putting a hand on his stomach instinctively. Julia took his other hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Lipson sighed and pulled up a stool, sitting in front of Quentin. "All right, well, I can see from your reaction this was not intentional, so." She spread her hands. "What do you want to do?"

Quentin sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "I mean. I have to...not have it, right? I mean, there's no way I can...raise a pup and like, graduate from Brakebills. There's no way Eliot wants to suddenly be dealing with a baby in the middle of his thesis year." There were a million other reasons swirling in his head, like _he doesn't want me_ and _I'm too broken to be a good father_ , but none of them mattered as much as Brakebills. He couldn't give up magic, period.

"Okay," Lipson said, nodding. "Those are good reasons to terminate. The magical procedures for it are very safe, and...well, they'll prevent you having the same problem again."

Lipson said it with an eyebrow raise and looking down away from him, her tone that sort of sardonic singsong she sometimes did. It was enough to make him squint. "How?"

She laced her fingers together in her lap. "The bond between alpha and omega is inherently a little bit magical. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the abortion procedure will break it."

Quentin blinked. "I mean...so we could just re-bond, right?" he said, looking to Julia. She grimaced, and he looked back to Lipson, who pressed her lips into a line and shook her head.

"Sorry. It's not a simple broken bond. Your bond's entire purpose is to get you to breed. Well, when you get a Muggle abortion, your body thinks the fetus died and you had a miscarriage, so it moves on. With magic, your body knows you chose this. Your bond knows. You can't come back from it."

Quentin wanted to keep thinking his way around this, but he was getting the sense that, like with a lot of magic, there was no technical loophole here. Sometimes magic just...worked a certain way, and couldn't be reasoned with.

"I mean." He swallowed. "If that's the way it has to be."

"The alternative is that you wait a week or two and get a Muggle abortion off-campus. With the recovery time for a male omega, you're going to want to wait until after finals." Lipson peered through her lens tool at him again. "Thing is, you're already maybe a week into the second trimester, and termination will be...more complicated than it would have been a couple weeks ago. The magical version will still work for a few weeks without trouble. Ethically, I can't recommend waiting, but I can't force you either way."

He didn't really have a leg to stand on here, did he? The magical way was the safest and easiest and he didn't have a good reason to risk himself.

"Um, let me talk to my partner?" he asked. "I should do that, right?" He looked from Lipson to Julia, both of whom nodded.

"Let's make an appointment for tomorrow," Lipson said. "And you can tell me whether it's an appointment for a procedure or your first prenatal appointment when we get there. How's that?"

"Okay," Quentin said, nodding and trying to swallow the lump in his throat. "Um, let's...assume it's for the procedure. Like. I don't know, maybe...I don't know, but just, um. That's the way I'm. Leaning. So."

Lipson nodded, looking between them. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then. You'll need about an hour for the procedure and monitoring, so let's say four o'clock? After all your classes?"

"Okay." Quentin nodded again, and hopped up off the exam table. "I'll, um, see you then."

~

Eliot came down the stairs to see Julia hugging Quentin goodbye, holding the door open with her foot as she rubbed his upper arms and gave him a smile. It made Eliot smile a little in turn. They were so cute.

"Quentin, just the man I wanted to see!"

Quentin startled like someone had slapped him, and he looked up at Eliot with a look that stopped him in his tracks.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Julia asked, soft and directed at Quentin.

"I'm sure," he said just as soft, looking down at her. "Thanks, Jules."

They hugged again, and Julia glanced up at Eliot, who was descending the last few steps, and left. Once the door was closed, he put a hand on Quentin's shoulder. "Everything okay, Q?"

His scent was unmistakably stressed out, and it was putting Eliot's hackles up, making him want to fight whatever the threat was. Nonsensical, because from the look Quentin was giving him, he was pretty sure the threat was himself. "Um," Quentin said. "Can we, um, go...to your room?"

If Quentin hadn't been sleeping in his room so much, Eliot would have been able to learn something from this choice. Normally, choosing his own room would be opting for safety and comfort, self-soothing for whatever was making him so anxious; choosing Eliot's would be opting for the ability to get out of the situation in case his anxiety turned out to be real. But when he'd been sleeping at Eliot's anyway, his own room just a shell, it could just as easily be either option.

"Sure," Eliot said, smiling reassuringly at him and directing him toward the stairs. "Whatever it is, we can work it out, okay?" he said, kissing the side of Quentin's head as he passed. Quentin leaned into it a little, like he always did, and Eliot chose to take that as an optimistic sign.

They headed upstairs, then up to the attic and Eliot's room. "Sit?" he invited Quentin, gesturing to the bed while he went over to his desk. 

Quentin sat, chewing on his lips and fidgeting. "Can you, um, maybe sit over here with me?"

"Of course," Eliot said, moving quickly to join him on the bed, and trying to take this as the seeking comfort option. 

"Okay." Quentin took a deep breath, not meeting Eliot's eyes. "So, um, there's not really a...okay, so, um, remember the ferry?"

Boy, did he. "I remember a lot about the ferry, yes."

"So, uh, you went into rut before we got off the boat."

"I did," Eliot agreed.

"And you only did the contraceptive spell when we got to the hotel."

"Careless of me, but yes," Eliot agreed again.

Quentin just stared at him, silent. Eliot suddenly had a block of ice in his stomach.

"Yeah," Quentin agreed, to whatever face he was making.

"I see."

"So, uh, I already talked to Lipson, and, um..."

Eliot blinked rapidly several times, and Quentin's voice started to fade into something distant as he babbled about what the doctor had said. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Trevor's face flashed through his mind and Eliot realized he hadn't thought about him, his first love, in months. He thought about how the smell of happy, satisfied omega was so different on Trevor from how it was on Quentin, yet somehow the same, they'd both hit his brain the same way. He imagined a baby with his curly hair and Quentin's wide mouth, the way Quentin would look away from it and look up at him and smile, how fucking beautiful he'd be with a pup in his arms. Eliot thought about putting a bite on Quentin's throat, and wondered if that mating gland would taste as sweet as it smelled. Would he taste like oranges? 

"Eliot?"

He snapped back to the present and looked down at Quentin, pulling a small smile into place. Reassuring and not upset, but taking the gravity of the situation seriously. "Whatever you want to do," he said, taking both of Quentin's hands and giving them a squeeze. "It's your body. I will support, unconditionally, any choice you make."

"You don't...smell like that's true," Quentin said, looking unsure.

Eliot could imagine that stress and fear and anger pheromones were coming off him in waves. "It just...hurts to know that I failed to take care of you," he said, letting the truth of that come through and make his eyebrows pinch together. "I don't really...I'm sorry, I don't want this to sound like I'm doubting you," he said, giving Quentin's hands another squeeze. "I just...I'd always heard that the chances were like, basically zero if you weren't in heat?"

Quentin nodded. "Well, they're um. Lower. A lot lower. But, uh, if I'm getting wet, I have a chance of getting pregnant. It's basically...so, um, there's a...vent, inside? A hole that opens up when I'm in heat. When I’m not in heat, it’s too small for anything to get in or out. Well, except..." Quentin rubbed the back of his neck. "Pregnancy can make it kind of, uh. Not _open_ but, relax. That's why I got wet the other day but no heat came, this...explains that."

"I see," Eliot said, and his throat was hurting for some reason. 

"Yeah. Well, uh, when it opens, I can get wet, and it blocks off the digestive tract. And, you know, it leads to...you know, where the pup grows. It doesn't open up as much in sympathetic heat as true heat, especially cause like, sympathy heat can come and go, so a lot of the time it doesn't have time to open enough? But. It can. So here we are." He shrugged.

"I see," Eliot repeated, nodding, and hating fucking Indiana for not giving anyone the sex ed to understand this shit. Not that that was any excuse for not learning before now. He swallowed. "Well. It was my job to keep you safe and I didn't. I'm sorry for that. But, I'm also not a slave to my biology, and when I say I'll support you, I mean it, even if...alpha brain has opinions. I don't..." He frowned, eyes dropping to their joined hands. "What I'm trying to say is I know what is right and moral and I intend to follow that, not my instincts, because they might not be the right thing."

"Okay." Quentin nodded. "That makes sense, I guess. I mean, it does, just, um. I, uh. Well. There's. Um. Consequences."

"Consequences is how I'd describe this whole situation, yes," Eliot said, unable to help it.

Quentin let out a huff that might have been a laugh. "I just, um. Well. I mean. I...I guess I can't keep it, right? You've got your thesis next year, I've got two more years of school. We can't...we can't raise a pup in that, right?" he asked, looking unsure again.

Eliot wanted so badly to insist they could, but honestly? He couldn't see it, not without help. Brakebills was not the most understanding institution in the world, he wasn't even sure if they'd be allowed to take a year off without having their memories taken. Brakebills couldn't take magic from Eliot, not when he'd first used it at fourteen, but they could take what he'd learned here. They could definitely take Quentin and Margo from him. The thought of it made his heart freeze in his chest, alone in the world with a breaking bond, only this time he couldn't even remember who the fuck he was bonded to or why. Eliot knew without question that he would not survive that.

"I think you're right," he agreed quietly, after a moment's thought. "So you're leaning towards abortion." It felt important to say the word, to eliminate any possible risk of talking around each other.

Quentin nodded. "Yeah. But you should know, um. Magical abortion isn't...like the regular kind. It, uh. It'll break the bond between us. And we won't...be able to get it back."

"Oh." Eliot looked away, digesting that for a moment. "I mean. All right. We only made it in the first place to get, like, official sanction to ditch class, but I won't be getting rut anymore and I don't care. So we can carry on the way we always intended, right? If you still want to," he added.

Quentin looked unsure again. "I mean...it's possible. But that's not how Lipson made it sound. Kinda sounded like friends is gonna be the best we can hope for. And even that, like..." He shrugged.

"I see." Suddenly it was difficult to swallow. "Well." He cleared his throat. "It's not...what I'd prefer, obviously. You are a good friend, Quentin, everything else aside," he said, taking Quentin's hand and squeezing. "But I can't ask you to choose me over magic," he said with a sad little smile. He was acutely aware that if Fogg so chose, he absolutely _could_ take magic away from Quentin, who'd discovered it when he arrived for his exam, looking like the spiritual equivalent of a freshly bathed cat in his stupid little blazer and that dumb little messenger bag. Not to mention that he would also be pregnant with no idea how he got that way. Presumably that would be a bridge too far even for Brakebills, but surely no one was allowed to just drop out to raise a pup.

Quentin looked...relieved. He nodded, and let out a breath. "Okay. I'll, um. I made an appointment for tomorrow, if you...want to come? I'll send a note and, just...um, confirm what we're. Doing with it. It was, uh, I didn't like..." He shook his head a little. "Lipson said I could let her know whether the appointment was for, uh, you know. An abortion, or prenatal care."

Eliot nodded and rubbed a hand along his back. "You do that."

Quentin nodded again and got up, going over to the desk and picking up one of Eliot's pens, finding a piece of paper. Eliot sat quietly and watched him write, bent over the desk rather than sitting. There was a rock in his stomach. He was about to lose Quentin and their pup all at once.

 _No,_ he told himself firmly. _It's not a pup. And he wasn't yours to lose._

It could become a pup, though. And Quentin could have been his if he'd just...

Quentin was standing up and folding the paper now, and Eliot took a deep, centering breath, closing his eyes against the tears that were trying to form. His unquiet mind plucked a thought out of the maelstrom plaguing him and latched on: how could he have been so careless? He was about to lose the best thing in his life, go through the pain of a broken bond again, _again_ , because he couldn't goddamn stop for two seconds and cast a spell that he ought to know to do automatically. He'd been so fucking careless and stupid, typical alpha bullshit rolling the dice with someone else's goddamn _life_ and he was about to pay the price. Honestly, maybe he didn't deserve Quentin if he couldn't keep him safe. Maybe he didn't deserve anyone. Maybe he should only fuck betas and other alphas from now on; at least he couldn't get knot-brained and ruin their lives quite so dramatically.

Probably he was catastrophizing. Probably he'd been catastrophizing all of this, there was no way that even Brakebills was going to turn a pregnant student out on the street with no memory of how they got that way because they refused an abortion. But it was still true that it would be nearly impossible to learn and raise a baby at the same time. And Quentin didn't want to, regardless. He needed to stop trying to talk himself into it being possible to keep it, because Quentin had said no, and it was his body. 

Quentin sat down next to him, and Eliot tried to give him another reassuring smile, bringing a hand up to card through his hair. All these feelings were his own problem and Quentin didn't need to be burdened with them. He leaned in to kiss Quentin on the forehead, then wrapped both arms around him to hug him close.

"I know I said it already, but I'm gonna keep saying it," he said, tucking his chin over the top of Quentin's head. "I'm so sorry. I was careless."

Quentin shook his head. "I was careless too," he said quietly. "I knew my shot had run out and didn't bother to get another because I was relying on the spell, and I even thought about the spell when I knew you were in rut, but I let myself get..." He shook his head.

"Hey, we talked about this," Eliot chided gently. "It's not your fault your brain goes to mush when I get into rut. I'm the one responsible for keeping my shit together because you can't. It's what you're designed for."

Quentin shivered a little against him, and Eliot couldn't help smiling. Kinda predictable, still terribly fun. He felt a pang in his chest. He thought about angling for goodbye sex, then immediately felt like shit for the urge. He just squeezed Quentin a little harder.

"I'm sorry," he said, and had to breathe through another urge to cry. "I'm so fucking sorry, baby boy."

Quentin took a shaky breath in his arms, then pulled away. "Um," he said, standing up. "I'm gonna..." He gestured to the door. "My room."

Eliot frowned a little. "You don't have to," he said softly. "You can still stay tonight."

"Um." Quentin turned away, hiding behind his hair. His voice, when he continued, was unsteady. "Well, if we're not gonna be able to going forward we may as well get used to it, right?"

Eliot's heart broke apart in his chest. "Okay, baby boy," he said softly. "Whatever you want. I'm here if you change your mind, okay?"

Quentin nodded without looking at him and fled, snapping the door shut quickly behind him. Eliot laid down on his bed and wrapped his arms around a pillow, at first trying to breathe the tears away, then just letting them soak it. It hurt not to be holding Quentin, but it was a little bit of a relief to not have to be strong for him, to be able to grieve on his own without the person who deserved his support, not his burdens. 

The pillow smelled enough like him, anyway.

~

Quentin couldn't really remember what he'd written on the note, and had the sudden crazy urge to go find it and check. He had to make sure it was right, and maybe, you know, if in rewording it to fix it he sort of changed his mind about what he wanted...

 _That's dumb,_ he told himself. Obviously whatever he wrote, it got the necessary message across; he wouldn't have written anything that didn't. He was just...freaking out and trying to find a way to delay things. An excuse to not go through with it. But he had to, didn't he?

Instead of going to his room, he blindly staggered out of the cottage and onto the grass, wandering aimlessly across the Sea. He knew he was being stupid, he had to be putting off omega distress signals like a beacon for everyone on campus. He was bothering people with his emotions that weren't even about what everyone else was freaking out about. God, he'd half-forgotten it. The entire campus was in crisis and he had the audacity to worry about his own stupid problems which were caused by his own stupid carelessness and which he had no right to be this upset about in the first place. Eliot wouldn't _want_ his pup and Quentin had no right to force it on him, no matter what promises he made about supporting him. It was the right thing to do for Eliot to make the promise, and it was the right thing to do for Quentin not to oblige him to keep it.

Someone called his name, and Quentin looked around. A girl in Eliot's year he didn't know very well -- Rachel, maybe? -- was smiling sympathetically at him from the walkway, twenty feet away.

"Wanna come with?" she asked, extending a hand to invite him to take it. He didn't know where she was inviting him or what was going on, he hadn't heard whatever she'd said before his name. But it was probably better than wandering aimlessly. So he nodded and came to take her hand, letting her lead him along wherever.

They went into the PA building, and into one of the labs. There was a pile of cushions in the corner, ostensibly meant for spellwork when you needed something that wouldn't break or be dangerous flying through the air. Currently, three other omegas occupied it -- Alice and two third years. Alice gave him a tentative little smile and wave, and Quentin mustered a little smile back. He was proud of her, joining a group without his help. 

Before he could notice or stop it, his smile was crumpling, and tears were gathering as he blinked. He'd dissolved into soft sobs by the time he and the second year girl reached the pile. 

Alice just looked sympathetic and pulled him down, making space to put him at the bottom of the pile. She laid across him protectively, and one of the third years did the same while Rachel pulled his feet into her lap. Alice pulled a tissue seemingly from midair and handed it to him.

They probably thought he was just stressed, like them. They had no idea. But he would take comfort anywhere he could get it right now, as long as it wasn't from Eliot. Being held by him, knowing what was coming, had just hurt too fucking much.

~

In due time, the cuddle pile broke up. Quentin would have preferred to stay there forever, surrounded by nonthreatening scents and gentle physical pressure, but the sun was going down and everyone was hungry. He held hands with Alice on the walk back to the cottage, who seemed to have figured out that he wasn't okay in a deeper way than everyone else. He was still debating telling her. Maybe just...letting someone know who understood, who understood him, would help.

He had no idea what she'd say. They'd become friends, gotten close, even, but...there was really no way to predict if she'd be supportive or if she'd say something that would just shatter him. It didn't feel worth the risk.

"Do you need anything?" she asked as they reached the top of the stairs, and the hallway that contained both of their rooms.

"No, I'm okay." He tried to muster a smile for her and was pretty sure he failed. She looked worried, but she nodded, giving his hand a squeeze before letting it go. Quentin waved, then went into his room. He wasn't really hungry, anyway, and Eliot was probably cooking again and he didn't think he could take that. It was a good thing they were about to leave for summer, because he was probably going to have to throw out all the snacks Eliot had gotten him, some stuff left over from heat in February, plus all the little things Eliot liked to bring him all the time. It let him feel like a provider, and it kept Quentin fed, so he'd happily gone along. Presumably that would be over soon.

Quentin could feel tears falling again in a kind of distant way, so he crawled into bed, where he could bury them in the pillow. Summer had arrived at Brakebills so it was comfortably warm outside, even into the evening, but he still felt cold.

It only took a couple of minutes for his own thoughts to become way too loud. He thought about drinking until he passed out. What did it matter, if he was getting rid of it anyway? He suspected he would throw up way before he got to the passing out stage, though, his stomach was turning just considering alcohol. Food was emotionally fraught no matter what, and he was way too exhausted to try running.

It was a good thing he had a whole list of things to distract himself from feeling shitty, developed over years with depression. Next was jerking off, and that didn't sound bad, actually. With a little luck it would put his ass to sleep and he wouldn't have to think about anything at all for a while.

Quentin got up and went to the bathroom, stripping his clothes off and going to great lengths not to look at himself in the mirror. He cleaned up from crying and jumped into the shower to clear his head and come up with a game plan. If he was trying to get knocked clean out, probably the most effective option would be to knot himself. 

Maybe it would be kinda nice to get reacquainted with his toys. Old friends he didn't use often now. He thought fondly of that black one he'd been favoring for his first heat at Brakebills, the one Eliot had guarded him through that led to this arrangement. Thick head, short thick shaft, impressive knot, pleasantly cushiony and comfortable to clench down on.

He remembered Eliot knotting him when he was in heat, running a hand up his chest. He closed his eyes and tweaked a nipple, remembering Eliot biting it at some point. God, he hadn't thought about it before, but he was getting sensitive here. It made him shiver, and he could feel his cock starting to fill, feel how eager his hole was to get stretched around something. 

Quickly, he turned the water off and toweled off, rubbing at his hair until it was just damp. He locked and sound warded his door, put a couple of extra pillows and blankets on the bed for a makeshift nest, and found his lube and the toy he wanted. He turned the lights off, then climbed into bed, making sure the tissues were handy.

Comfortable and safe in bed, he sighed as he found his dick and stroked it a little, thinking of Eliot's mouth. Eliot really fucking loved oral, probably as much as Quentin did, he just went for rimming as easily as Quentin went for sucking his dick. God, it felt so good down his throat, knot forcing his jaw open wide. Quentin shivered and pulled his hand away, picking up the toy. He explored briefly, and decided he didn't need the lube.

A moment later, he had the head nudging at him. He wasn't in heat to help with it, but he was wet enough, so he just had to take it slow. He exhaled, curled on his side to push it against himself and withdraw, carefully starting to work it in. He could feel his hole starting to spread on it already, just as eagerly as it did on Eliot's cock. God, he was so big, so good. Eliot made him feel good and filled like no one else did. He thought about Eliot in this bed, in the nest he'd told Quentin to build, promising to breed him, fill him up right.

Quentin chose not to freak out at this line of thought, letting it continue. He flipped fully onto his stomach and pushed his hips up, sighing as he rocked back. The head was getting most of the way in now. Soon, soon he'd be taking all of it and could work on the knot. _You want everyone to know I fucked you and knotted you and bred you._ Eliot's voice echoed through his head, making his prick twitch in the air. He settled back more, in position like he was presenting for his alpha. _You want everyone to know._ Quentin imagined himself with a heavy, round belly, being shown off as such good breeding stock, about to have such a strong, healthy pup, and shivered.

He made an incoherent noise as the head finally popped past the inner ring of muscle and tugged a little as he pulled it out again. His cock was already starting to drip without being touched, eager for what was coming. Quentin fucked himself with the head for a few moments, then started to press back on the knot, moaning into the pillow at the pressure and stretch. God, being knotted felt so fucking good, heat or no. He remembered Eliot just pinning him down on the boat, giving him no chance to protest, and making him see stars until that gorgeous knot blew and tied them together, left Quentin shivering pleasurably at the stretch until Eliot decided to get him off too. He remembered being knotted in the mouth and having no choice but to let Eliot do whatever he wanted to his ass.

It ripped through him like a lightning bolt as Quentin remembered he was never going to have that again. He swallowed hard and did some deep exhales, breathing out the tension to help his hole take more of the knot. He thought of breathing deep as Eliot touched him -- _holdingapup-rubbinghisback-fuckinghimbigbellyswaying-_

There was a lump in his throat and Quentin tried to push it away. Eliot fingering him. Eliot grinding the knot into him. Eliot pounding him until he came. Eliot holding him and kissing his forehead, his scent radiating _safety_ and _care_ and _mine_. Eliot spooning up behind him to cuddle while Quentin cradled their pup to his chest.

The knot finally popped in as Quentin sobbed into the pillow, tears leaking from his squeezed-shut eyes. He let his knees slide to bring his hips down to the bed, wrapping both arms around the pillow so he could sob into it as hard as he needed. It turned out that crying under a pile of other omegas was fucking nothing -- here was the big show, sobbing his heart out with his ass full of a fake knot as he imagined their child and grieved for never meeting them. He imagined letting Eliot fill him up like this every three months for the rest of their lives, pump him as full of pups as he could handle. A little girl with Eliot's black curls here, a boy with Quentin's square jaw there.

Eliot cooking while Quentin cleaned up. Quentin fixing a broken plate while Eliot read aloud. Laughter. The fucking...pitter-patter of tiny feet. He was losing all of it tomorrow at four o'clock. 

His sobs slowly ratcheted down, trailing off into hiccups as his mind trailed off into depressed blankness. Around this time, his ass informed him there was still a knot in it, and he should do something about that.

Quentin blew out a breath and reached back to grab the base, tugging on it and making himself shiver, then letting it rest. He pulled at it again, letting himself feel the stretch just as well as when he'd been putting it in, and imagined Eliot in a nest with him, in a perfect little denning room like the one in the house of some kid he'd known in middle school. He hardly remembered the boy, but he remembered the room. He would lay on his back in his nest, built up and made perfect, and Eliot would lay over him, snuffling up under his chin, at his neck, sliding inside him...

The knot popped out, making Quentin grunt. He pushed, and it popped back in easier, now that his hole had stretched around it a couple times. Slowly, he started to fuck himself with the knot, letting the stretch make him feel good as he just imagined Eliot on top of him, sniffing and biting around his neck, sucking at the hollow of his throat and thrusting inside him. His thighs twitched every time the knot stretched him, panting into his pillow.

It would smell so good, like his own heat and his partner's rut and their melded scents, like some other scent that meant _nest_ and _family_. Eliot would bite his neck, bite his ear, whisper to him, lick over a bite scar between his collarbones. 

Quentin imagined the pain and euphoria of Eliot biting into his throat. 

He came hard, whimpering against the pillow as he made a mess of his sheets, hole clenching around the knot. Locking on. Tying them together.

~

Quentin slept twelve hours, then wandered through his classes the next day in a daze. He wasn't absorbing a single thing, but he figured he may as well go anyway, hope something implanted itself in his subconscious that would be on the final. 

He didn't really process anything until Sunderland's class, and only then, it was just her calling out his name at the end of class. "Stay behind a moment, please?"

Quentin hadn't managed to get his books out of his bag, so he just sat in his desk until everyone had cleared out. Sunderland approached him, rather than making him get up.

"Quentin, you don't seem yourself today," Sunderland said as she crossed her arms and leaned against a desk, frowning with concern. "Is everything all right?"

"Um." Quentin glanced toward the window. "Yeah. I guess, uh. Just. The same stress everyone's under, I guess. You know, with the attack and...finals. And everything."

"All right," she said, still frowning. "Well, if you're sure. I won't keep you if there's nothing I can help with."

"Um, actually," he said, looking up at her. "Um. It's just." He blushed, and looked away again. He heard a chair scrape against the floor as she took the seat in front of him.

"Quentin, whatever it is, you can tell me. I think you're a remarkable student, and I just want to see you succeed."

"Yeah." Quentin cleared his throat. "Yeah, uh. You told me something like that. Back in, um, December." He sniffed and shook his head. "It's just, uh. You, um. Well. You were right."

Sunderland raised her eyebrows. "I often am, yet people so seldom tell me so."

Quentin let out a humorless huff. "I, uh. I'm pregnant."

He could feel the shift in her demeanor, and felt a little satisfied to have caught her off guard. "I see." She was quiet a moment. "Have you spoken to Professor Lipson?"

Quentin nodded. "I have an appointment after classes. To, um. You know." He swallowed hard. "Take care of it. The, uh, magical way."

"Ah." Her voice was sympathetic now, and he had a feeling she knew what the procedure did. "Quentin, if-"

"Have you ever been pregnant?" he asked, looking up at her. It was an inappropriate question to ask a professor, but he just...needed some kind of lifeline, here. Something to...hold onto, to believe that it wasn't as cataclysmically, life-endingly bad as it felt right now.

"No," she said.

"Really?" he asked, eyes flicking to her throat, covered by a choker today. He'd noticed that she never once flashed her mating gland, not in front of students.

"Really." Surprising him, she reached up and unclasped it, then took it off, showing him her throat for the first time.

There was definitely a scar there, but...Quentin leaned in, squinting. "That doesn't look like a bite."

"No," Sunderland agreed. "Have you heard of a false bond, Quentin?"

He nodded. "Injuries to the gland that make your body think someone's mated you, but...there's no actual mate. So you get all the downsides and..." Quentin's mind ran briefly down the list of bond effects, and he looked up at her face, eyes a little wide. "How did it happen?"

"That doesn't matter," she said. "It happened. I live with it."

Quentin rubbed a hand over his mouth, unable to help his eyes drifting back to her scar. She couldn't feel pleasure from sex with anyone. When she went into heat, it lasted twice as long and was twice as difficult, her body raging against the impossibility of a bond with no alpha. Quentin already had trouble sleeping alone, but she probably woke up in the middle of the night looking for a mate who'd never existed.

"I'm really sorry," he said, shaking his head a little. Suddenly, an accidental pregnancy didn't really seem quite as bad.

"And I'm sorry you're in this situation, Quentin," she said, reaching out and putting a hand over his. "Some alphas aren't worth the air they breathe. Some are worth every ounce of love you have to give and more. I really hope Eliot has been the latter for you."

Quentin had to breathe through the sudden urge to cry again. Sunderland gave his hand a squeeze and another sympathetic smile, then stood, smoothing her skirt and straightening out her necklace. "I'll leave you alone for a minute," she said, fastening it back on. "I have another class, but no one will get here for a few minutes yet, so you've got time. Good luck this afternoon."

It felt like four heartbeats passed before it was 3:47, and he was standing by the front door of the cottage, watching Eliot come down the stairs.

He looked good, better than usual. Instead of his usual slacks and coordinating but not matching waistcoat, he was in a whole three piece suit, the jacket slung casually over his shoulder. The plum color of the suit looked amazing on him, set off by a midnight blue tie that was somehow dark and bright at once, and a cream-colored shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows.

"Oh," Eliot said, stopping in his tracks on the stairs. "Sorry, I figured we were meeting there."

"Oh," Quentin answered. "Um. Well, I...figured we'd walk together. If you want? I haven't been waiting long," he said. "And I was also kind of waiting for Julia, who's like..." He glanced out the open door. "Thirty feet away."

"Well, let's walk, then," Eliot said, giving him a bland smile. Quentin smiled unsteadily back and turned, taking a breath as Julia arrived. 

"Hey, Jules," he said, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. "Thanks for coming."

"Of course," she said, and glanced at Eliot. "Is he coming with?"

Quentin nodded. "Yeah. Moral support, I guess."

"Okay." Julia smiled, then extended a hand to Eliot. He quickly pulled the jacket on, then gave her a smile and took it, lifting it to kiss the back. _Charming as always,_ Quentin thought with a pang.

The walk to the infirmary was silent, the three of them holding hands. Quentin almost wished Julia hadn't placed herself between them. He understood why, it was a beta's whole function in the system to act as a buffer, to calm their alphas and omegas down, keep them from getting too intense. A/O pairings on their own got into feedback loops and kept driving each other higher and higher. Adding a beta mellowed the whole thing out, gave it actual staying power. Hadn't Quentin seen the evidence of that himself, in how desperately he wanted to hold onto his alpha? Beyond reason? All those fantasies of just staying in a nest and getting knotted forever? It was ridiculous, they definitely ought to be separated in such an emotional moment.

Still. It would have been nice to feel the spark of holding his hand one last time.

He broke away from the little knot they'd formed when they got there, flagging down a Healing student in scrubs. "Um, I have an appointment with Lipson at four?"

She nodded, then gestured with her chin to the chairs in the nearby waiting room. "Have a seat, I'll tell her you're here."

Quentin nodded and let Julia lead him over to the chairs, sinking into one. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Julia gave his hand a squeeze, but he didn't look at her. If he looked at her, he'd see Eliot on her other side, and he didn't know if he could do this if he did.

He was expecting to sit in these chairs waiting forever, but he'd hardly had time for that thought to pass when he heard Lipson's voice. "Quentin? Come on back."

~

The walk from the cottage to the clinic was the longest of Eliot's life. He wanted to let go of the pretty beta's hand and have a fucking cigarette on the way, maybe take the edge off the stress. By forcing himself to breathe, if nothing else. But he needed to be holding onto _someone_ , so he kept her hand in his and put one foot in front of the other, quietly resolved to be supportive and love Quentin through this as much as he was able, and keep his feelings to himself. He had all summer to grieve their pup and the life they might have had, and in the fall, they could work on seeing what kind of friendship was possible to get back. Hell, maybe there was a spell to reset their bond. Maybe this wasn't really the end. Maybe Eliot would make that his fucking thesis.

He wasn't a Healing student and could barely mend a paper cut. But it was a nice thought.

"Hi," Quentin said to a student, quiet and kind of furtive. "I, um, I have an appointment with Lipson? At four?"

The student nodded and gestured them to the chairs. "Have a seat, I'll tell her you're here."

Eliot sat and took his hand back from Julia, carefully smoothing down the front of his waistcoat. He was formulating a plan. When Quentin got called, Eliot would stand up and give him a hug, and that would be that. Whatever happened after that happened. It was out of his hands.

"Quentin? Come on back."

Jesus, already? Didn't she have the decency to make them wait half an hour like every other doctor on the planet? Eliot was frozen in his seat, looking up and catching Quentin's eye as he passed. God, he probably looked half-panicked. _Get your shit together._ He grit his teeth and tried to gather himself.

"Um."

He looked up, and Quentin was still standing over him. Eliot swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat.

"Hi," he said, uselessly.

"Um," Quentin said again. "So, um. What if. What if we didn't do this?" he asked, practically shouting it, his voice gone too-loud and panicky. "What if we just, like, kept it and I, I dunno, finish at Brakebills once he or she is in kindergarten or something?" His hands were shaking. "Like." His eyes were wide and earnest. "I wouldn't be the first parent to go back to school, right? A-a-and, um, I just, um..."

"Quentin." Eliot stood up, bullying him half a step back, and took his hands, clasping them between his own. Giving those unsteady hands a squeeze gave him a moment to collect his thoughts, to put what he wanted to say in order. He kept his voice low and steady, choosing every word, every syllable, with care. 

"Quentin Coldwater, you had better be fucking serious, because I would throw myself off a building to have this baby with you."

Quentin looked up at him with disbelief, with growing joy. He made a sound that Eliot didn't know whether to read as a laugh or a sob, then threw his arms around Eliot's shoulders. Eliot hugged him tight around the waist, burying his face into Quentin's neck and inhaling.

"Oh my god," came Lipson's voice. "Okay, okay, Jesus, will you two stop trying to climb each other and come to my exam room? Your beta can come too, if she wants."

"Oh no," Julia said. Eliot turned to see her raising both hands and sliding out of her chair, taking a couple of big sidesteps away. "I am not involved with this. Good luck, you two." She flicked a salute their way, but there was a kind of sardonic smirk on her face, like she'd seen this coming a mile away. Eliot returned her salute with a wide grin.

Quentin had a death grip on Eliot's hand as they followed Lipson down a short hallway into an exam room. Eliot could relate, unsure if he was going to be able to let go of Quentin anytime in the next year.

"Okay, so," Lipson said, closing the door behind them and parking herself on a rolling stool. "We're settled on keeping it?"

Quentin looked up at him, a question in his eyes, and Eliot gave a small shrug, then a nod. "Yes," Quentin said firmly, looking back down at her.

"Okay." She nodded once and gestured to the exam table. Eliot pulled a chair over so he could sit and still hold Quentin's hand as he sat on the edge. Lipson rolled her eyes, but didn't stop him.

"So, options," she said, pushing herself on her stool up to the edge of the table. "First, you can apply to Dean Fogg for permission to take a sabbatical to have it and raise it. He'll grant it, because pregnancy grosses him out." She began taking Quentin's pulse and blood pressure, a pen lifting itself above a clipboard behind her and writing on its own. "You won't be able to live on campus, but you can get an apartment in the nearest town, or somewhere Brakebills has a portal to, and Eliot can come see you as often as he thinks he can handle. You're due somewhere around the new year, so he would effectively miss the first five or six months of baby's life, working on his thesis. I'd recommend you come back and finish your education as soon as Eliot graduates, Fogg doesn't like long absences. Eliot can stay home with the baby while you finish."

"Not ideal," Eliot said, giving Quentin's hand a squeeze. "I wouldn't want to leave him alone with a newborn. Or miss that much crucial time."

"Fair," Lipson said, moving to test Quentin's reflexes. "The next option is that one or both of you just drop out. It essentially makes you hedge witches, but you can go to a regular grad school or get regular jobs, either of which would be _way_ easier to balance with a newborn than Brakebills."

"No," Quentin said quickly. "We want to finish our education. Both of us."

"All right, well, there is a third option, but it sucks," she said bluntly, picking up the self-writing pen and taking notes with it. "Lay back and undo your pants. Roll them down below your hipbones," she instructed Quentin. Eliot was loath to let go of his hand, but he reluctantly did, just moving his chair to stay close. "There _is_ a spell for this kind of thing. It's safe for baby, you just won't be a happy camper."

"I like it better so far," Quentin said, working on exposing his still-flat stomach. Eliot couldn't help staring, marveling. _There's a baby in there._

"It applies a lot of principles from horomancy. It essentially freezes your pregnancy in time," she said. She waved a hand without looking up and the door opened, whereupon a Healing student rolled a machine into the room. "You would essentially spend the next two and a half years pregnant, but you could keep that bun in the oven. You would keep having pregnancy symptoms for all that time, and your chances of developing something like preeclampsia or gestational diabetes go way, way up." She finished her notes with a flourish and got up to roll the machine to the other side of the exam table. "If you developed any complications, we would have to resume the pregnancy immediately and pray that you could hang on with it long enough for the baby to be able to survive outside you. I'd have to see you for an exam every month, and it's unpredictable what this would do to Eliot's rut cycle. You would also be re-learning, like, a quarter of what you learn at Brakebills, because a pregnancy is a very major internal Circumstance."

She finally sat back down on her stool. "Honestly? Complications or not, getting the Muggle abortion is easier. You can always start trying for another one after graduation. But it's up to you. You wanted options."

Quentin looked over at him. "What do you think?" he asked quietly. 

Eliot took Quentin's hand in both of his again. "I said I would support whatever decision you made, and I meant it. If you want to keep this one, if you're willing to go through the hell you've been in for the next two years, then I..." Eliot shook his head, overcome with emotion for a second. "Then I think you're a goddamn superhero, Q. I'll be there with you the whole way, no matter what."

Quentin took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay." He gave Eliot a little smile, while Eliot couldn't help returning. "Okay. Um, question," Quentin said a little louder, looking up from the exam table toward Lipson. "How come you didn't tell me about any of this yesterday?"

Lipson shrugged. "I asked what you wanted to do and you said abortion, so I talked about abortion. I sure as fuck wasn't gonna be seen pressuring you to keep it," she said.

Quentin just stared at her for a moment, then laid back to look at the ceiling again. "You know what? That's fair."

Surely it was just the rollercoaster of emotions Eliot had been through in the last fifteen minutes, but this sent him into a fit of uncontrollable giggles. Lipson banished him from the room, where every passing Healing student proceeded to glare daggers at him for the minutes it took him to get his shit together. He was just so happy, so goddamn _euphoric_ that it seemingly had to come out somehow. He just couldn't handle it.

Just as Eliot felt like he could keep it together again, the door opened. Quentin emerged first, then Lipson. Quentin had a furtive little smile on his face, and was clutching a piece of paper, which Eliot's eyes were drawn right to.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked, staring at it like he might develop x-ray eyes and be able to see through it if he concentrated hard enough.

"I'll see you after your last final to cast the spell," Lipson said, already walking away briskly. "Take a vitamin, Coldwater!" she called in parting.

"Wanna see?" Quentin asked, furtive smile splitting into a grin. Eliot nodded enthusiastically, and Quentin shuffled closer to show it, so no one else could see.

"I guess it doesn't really look like much yet," Quentin said, then exhaled sharply. "And it won't for at least two years. But. Here they are," he said, looking up at Eliot with a smile. "Perfect so far."

"And no wonder," Eliot said, wrapping an arm around Quentin's shoulders to tuck him up against his side. "With such violently attractive parents."

Quentin rolled his eyes. "Parent, maybe," he grumbled, but he was nuzzling up under Eliot's arm, snuggling in. Eliot turned to lead him out of the building while Quentin talked about the spell and how far along he was, about waiting out the end of his morning sickness before they cast the spell and other logistical questions. Eliot just let it all wash over him, giving answers when Quentin asked questions that seemed to need them, but otherwise just taking it in. They were halfway across the Sea, back towards the cottage, when Quentin broke away to stand in front of him.

"Hey, so, um," he said, fingers worrying the edges of the picture. "So are we, like, doing this?"

Eliot frowned. "Doing what?"

"Like. I mean, are we just co-parents, or are we, like..."

Eliot wrapped his arms around Quentin's shoulders, pulling him close. He bent down to Quentin's level, nudging their noses together, then kissed him, the longest, slowest kiss he could remember giving anyone in his life. The rest of the world faded away, and there was only this. Only Quentin, and the way his whole body was just melting into it, the way he was going so pliant and sweet, like he always did.

"Oh," Quentin murmured, when they finally broke apart. "Okay."

Eliot grinned down at him. "Okay," he whispered, and kissed him again.


	6. i come undone...in this mad season

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to redtoblack for betaing and punkfistfights for the cheer! I'm already sort of thinking about a sequel to this so WE'LL SEE but there might be more of this in the cards 👀

" _Theodore_ ," Eliot said in a warning voice. That was all it took for Teddy to scurry back to the door and start putting his shoes on again.

"Thank you," Eliot said cordially, finishing wrapping up the frittata tray he'd made Josh as a thank you for taking Teddy. Julia was off on her honeymoon with Kady and Penny, and Margo's boyfriend was, frankly, the only other person they knew who could be reasonably trusted with childcare. Like...mostly trusted. (As long as he kept the drugs out of reach.)

"Where's Dad?" Teddy asked, pulling on his little velcro toddler sneakers. "We gotta say goodbye to Dad!"

"He's not coming down, but if you're quiet and respectful, we can go upstairs and see him. Can you do that?"

Teddy nodded enthusiastically, so Eliot picked him up and carried him on his hip up the stairs. Just across from the top was the door to a small room, which had been advertised as potentially a lovely storage room. Its original purpose was obvious, but if the realtor wanted to act flustered around an alpha/omega couple, it was no real business of Eliot's.

Eliot knocked on the door softly, then cracked it open. "Up for company, sweetheart? Teddy wants to say bye."

"Of course, come in," came the soft reply.

Eliot pushed the door open and set Teddy down on the floor. He couldn't help a smile, watching his son pick his way carefully over the nest, being so cautious not to upset the construction. The sweetest boy in the world, just like his dad.

"Hey, buddy," Quentin said with a smile, opening his arms to let Teddy flop into them. He looked beautiful in the dim light, the small room lit only by high windows near the ceiling which kept it cool and dark in here. He was shirtless, just in soft pajama pants, lest the toddler burst into the room without knocking. The sweet orange smell of his impending heat was starting to fill the room, making Eliot's cock tighten in his slacks, but for the moment he could only smile and lean against the doorjam as he watched his omega cradle their pup in his arms, even if said pup was getting a little big for cradling.

"You're gonna be good for Uncle Josh and Aunt Margo, right?" Quentin asked. Teddy nodded emphatically, and Quentin smiled. "Good," he said, and kissed Teddy's forehead, then let him scramble to his feet.

Eliot reached out and lifted him safely out of the nest, setting him back down by the door. "Get your backpack and bring it downstairs, okay? I'll meet you down there in a minute." He ruffled Teddy's hair and sent him scurrying off, then shut the door behind him.

"How long, sweetheart?" he asked, kicking his shoes off and getting on hands and knees to crawl into the nest.

"Not very," Quentin murmured, turning toward him as he approached, sinking a hand into Eliot's curls. "Really want you to touch me."

"I know, baby, soon," Eliot promised, placing a kiss on Quentin's neck. "Josh will be here really soon and then you'll have me. I promise. Do you want to tell me what we agreed, one more time while I know you've got your wits about you?"

Eliot pulled back enough to see Quentin's throat bobbing as he swallowed and nodded. "No contraception. I want another pup. We both do."

Eliot nodded, brushing a strand of hair back from Quentin's face and waiting.

"And." He swallowed again, looking up at Eliot with those big eyes, gorgeous and vulnerable. "If. If you think it's. I mean. If you. Want."

"If I think it feels right," Eliot supplied.

"If you think it feels right," Quentin repeated. "You're gonna put a bite on me."

Eliot nodded, reaching up to draw his thumb over the gland, the spot he'd sucked and nibbled and sniffed at so many times over the past few years. "I've wanted to since the day we met. And it's a huge honor that you trust me enough to let me. I just need to be sure I feel worthy of that honor before I take it. But whether it's now or the next time or the time after that, I promise I will. Okay?"

Quentin nodded and took Eliot's left hand, bringing it up so he could press his lips to the smooth gold band there. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too, baby," Eliot whispered back, nuzzling in and kissing him.

Quentin opened up under him like a flower, whimpering and angling his head to beg to be kissed deeper. He was like a whirlpool in the sea, desperate to suck Eliot down with him, and Eliot just wanted to give in. He nuzzled down into Quentin's neck, getting a deep whiff of him, but he heard the front door open.

Pulling away with a groan, Eliot kissed Quentin's forehead. "I'll just be a minute, sweetheart, and then I'm here until it hits. Here," he said, reaching into a hidden compartment at the side. "Until I get back."

He could practically see Quentin's pupils dilate, looking at the blue dildo he'd been handed, and he nodded. Eliot grinned, but made himself leave the nest, shutting the door behind himself and jogging downstairs to meet Josh.

~

His alpha handing him a toy made it much, much better than just any toy he might have picked. Quentin shed his pants quickly and spread his legs, laying back in his pile of pillows and reaching down. He sighed as he teased the slim tip at his hole, then pushed it inside. He was starting to slicken up, enough that it was easy to slide it deeper, making himself moan. The toy wasn't anywhere near Eliot in size, but that was probably the point. Eliot would want him still tight and needy. That was okay. Right on the cusp of it like this, the toy was enough.

Quentin sighed and let his brain drift away, fucking himself slow and steady with the toy. The slide felt so good right now, his spread legs felt right, and his nest was perfect, added to and built up over months, refined and fixed up just yesterday. His alpha was taking care of their pup until he could get back here, and they'd mounted a cabinet up high, well away from head height when they were in the nest, that contained all the necessary sustenance and cleaning supplies to get them through heat. Quentin found himself looking forward to it instead of dreading it with annoyance.

He heard footsteps on the stairs, and rustling outside his den. (God it felt so good to have a real den.) When Eliot opened the door again, he was naked except for his wedding ring, and he didn't wait to be invited. He knew he was welcome.

"Holy shit, that's beautiful," he breathed out, closing the door behind him without looking. Quentin spread his legs more and let out a sweet moan, showing off a little, encouraging his alpha to come touch. His free hand came to palm his cock, just rubbing over it to feel nice more than really jerking off.

Eliot slid easily into the nest with him, posting up between his spread legs and reaching out to wrap a hand around the back of Quentin's neck, scruffing him the way they both loved so much. Quentin sighed happily and relaxed into it, letting Eliot take the toy and move it for him. He turned his head, getting a noseful of his alpha's scent at the wrist.

"Eliot," he gasped, feeling the first wave of it hit him, triggered by his scent. Eliot shushed him gently and withdrew the toy, tossing it clear out of the nest to bounce on the bare hardwood by the door. It was replaced immediately with his cock, bigger and harder and blood-warm, making Quentin sigh and relax again.

"There you go, baby," Eliot murmured softly, giving his neck a squeeze as he started to thrust. "Bet that feels so good, huh? Feel good, baby? Want me to put a pup in you?"

Quentin nodded eagerly, letting out a huffing breath. His hands were up next to his head now, resting submissively by. His legs shook a little around Eliot's hips, the slide of him lighting up every nerve ending Quentin had.

"Good boy," Eliot growled softly. "You're a good boy." He was thrusting harder, making Quentin gasp and whine, and then the knot caught, Eliot muffling a groan against his neck. Quentin sighed and relaxed happily, loving the familiar feeling of the knot he knew so well. He let out a soft little purr, a happy omega sound through and through.

"You make Daddy feel so good, baby," Eliot purred, nosing at his neck, sniffing at him. The intimate feeling of breath against his sensitive glands had Quentin shivering.

"Knot me so good, Daddy," Quentin slurred back, eyes closed, mouth hanging open. He heard Eliot chuckle, then two fingers slid between his lips, making him shiver as they thrust against his tongue, fucked his mouth so nice. He'd only just managed to close his lips and suck when they withdrew, making him whine.

"So good for Daddy," Eliot rumbled. "My sweet boy." He was kissing and licking across Quentin's neck, and Quentin realized with a clench of his stomach that Eliot was at the hollow of his throat.

"Feeling good, baby?" Eliot murmured.

Quentin swallowed and nodded, the nervousness and anticipation cutting through the heat-haze. "So good."

"Good boy." A broad lick with the flat of Eliot's tongue, then his teeth began worrying the skin. Quentin gasped as he felt the skin break, then a disconcerting _pop_. His eyes were open, staring sightlessly at the ceiling when euphoria flooded his brain. _Oh,_ it seemed to say, his eyes drifting shut again, _there you are, alpha. We've been looking for you._

~

Eliot had expected to feel some kind of nervousness about it, but he didn't. There was only this bone-deep self-assurance, a confidence that what he was doing was right and correct, and maybe it was alpha brain talking, but he was choosing to let it ride. Fuck waiting. He'd intended to knock a few out first, get Quentin good and relaxed and fucked-out. It would make the gland easier to find and pierce, make it hurt less for Quentin, and give Eliot time to think about it. But what the fuck was the point? He knew he wanted it, and so did Quentin. Locked together like this, his pretty boy squeezing down happily on his knot, Eliot's jaw was _aching_ with the desperation to bite. 

He took his time, nosing across Quentin's skin until he could smell it. It was like a beacon to his alpha brain, X marks the spot, insert teeth here. Eliot sucked at it to bring it closer to the surface, letting himself swim in chocolate-orange candy scent. He licked it and worked at it with his teeth a little, feeling out the shape of the gland. A little smaller than a grape, but the same firm tautness. Here and ready for the bite. Eliot took a deep breath.

First to flood his mouth was Quentin's blood, and then the chemicals contained in the gland, sinking through his mucus membranes and going right to his brain, letting all those happy neurotransmitters seep in. Some distant part of his brain, swimming in euphoria, reflected that it would have made sense for the gland to taste like oranges, but as Eliot licked his lips clean and licked the wound, it didn't. It tasted like peaches.


End file.
